.LIBRARY 
UNIYERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

DAVIS 


>.co 


WORKS  BY  REV.  E.  P.  ROE. 


A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  XIX.  CENTURY. 

NEAR  TO  NATURE'S  HEART. 

FROM  JEST  TO   EARNEST. 

THE  OPENING  OF  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

WHAT  CAN  SHE  DO? 

BARRIERS  BURNED  AWAY. 

Each   i  vol.,  1 2 mo.     Handsomely  bound  in 
uniform  style.    Per  volume,  $1.50. 

DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY,  Publishers, 

751  BROADWAY,  NEW  YORK. 


A    KNIGHT 


OF  THE 


NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


BY 


REV.  E.  P.  ROE. 

Author  of  "  NEAR  TO  NATURE'S  HEART,"    "  FROM  JEST  TO  EARNEST,1' 
"WHAT  CAN  SHE  Do?"  "OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR," 

"BARRIERS  BURNED  AWAY,"  ETC.  * 


NEW  YORK: 

DODD,   MEAD   &   COMPANY, 

751  BROADWAY. 

1877. 


LIBRARY 

JftfTTERSlTY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


Copyright, 

1877, 
1     BY  DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY. 


THIS  BOOK 

IS   REVERENTLY  DEDICATED  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF 

MY  HONORED  FATHER. 


PREFACE. 


HE  best  deserves  a  knightly  crest, 
Who  slays  the  evils  that  infest 
His  soul  within.     If  victor  here, 
He  soon  will  find  a  wider  sphere. 
The  world  is  cold  to  him  who  pleads  ; 
The  world  bows  low  to  knightly  deeds. 

CORNWALL  ON  THE  HUDSON,  N.  Y. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PACK 

BAD  TRAINING  FOR  A  KNIGHT 13 

CHAPTER  II. 
BOTH  APOLOGIZE 24 

CHAPTER  III. 
CHAINED  TO  AN  ICEBERG 33 

CHAPTER  IV, 

I MMATURE 45 

CHAPTER  V. 
PASSION'S  CLAMOR 58 

CHAPTER  VI. 
"  GLOOMY  GRANDEUR  " 72 

CHAPTER  VII. 
BIRDS  OF  PREY 81 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
THEIR  VICTIM 95 

CHAPTER  IX. 
PAT  AND  THE  PRESS 105 

CHAPTER  X. 
RETURNING  CONSCIOUSNESS 114 

CHAPTER  XI. 
HALDANE  is  ARRESTED 124 


I0  CONTENTS. 

,  CHAPTER  XII. 

PAGE 

A  MEMORABLE  MEETING 137 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
OUR  KNIGHT  IN  JAIL r.v 147 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
MR.  ARNOT'S  SYSTEM  WORKS  BADLY 154 

CHAPTER  XV. 
HALDANE'S  RESOLVE 164 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
THE  IMPULSES  OF  WOUNDED  PRIDE 172 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
AT  ODDS  WITH  THE  WORLD 18o 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
THE  WORLD'S  VERDICT — OUR  KNIGHT  A  CRIMINAL 190 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
THE  WORLD'S  BEST  OFFER — A  PRISON. ,. 197 

CHAPTER  XX. 

•MAIDEN  AND  WOOD-SAWYER 2O5 

CHAPTER4  XXI. 
MAGNANIMOUS  MR.  SHRUMPF , 217 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
A  MAN  WHO  HATED  HIMSELF 224 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
MR.  GROWTHER  BECOMES  GIGANTIC 236 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
How  PUBLIC  OPINION  is  OFTEN  MADE 247 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
A  PAPER  PONIARD 257 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

PAGB 

A  SORRY  KNIGHT ^ 265 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
GOD  SENT  His  ANGEL 273 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
FACING  THE  CONSEQUENCES 280 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
How  EVIL  ISOLATES 290 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
IDEAL  KNIGHTHOOD 298 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 
THE  Low  STARTING-POINT 308 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 
A  SACRED  REFRIGERATOR 319 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
A  DOUBTFUL  BATTLE  IN  PROSPECT 329 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
A  FOOT-HOLD.  ...  - 340 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 
THAT  SERMON  WAS  A  BOMB-SHELL 346 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
MR.  GROWTHER  FEEDS  AN  ANCIENT  GRUDGE 355 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 
HOPING  FOR  A  MIRACLE 363 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 
THE  MIRACLE  TAKES  PLACE 372 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 
VOTARIES  OF  THE  WORLD 381 


1 2  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XL. 

PAGE 

HUMAN  NATURE 394 

CHAPTER  XLI. 
MRS.  ARNOT'S  CREED 406 

CHAPTER  XLII. 
THE  LEVER  THAT  MOVES  THE  WORLD 418 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 
MR.  GROWTHER  "  STUMPED  " 428 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 
GROWTH 440 

CHAPTER  XLV. 
LAURA  ROMEYN 455 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 
MISJUDGED 464 

CHAPTER  XLVII. 
LAURA'CHOOSES  HER  KNIGHT 475 

CHAPTER  XLVIII. 
MRS.  ARNOT'S  KNIGHT 489 

CHAPTER  XLIX. 
A  KNIGHTLY  DEED 502 

CHAPTER  L. 
"  O  DREADED  DEATH  !  " 515 

CHAPTER  LI. 
"  O  PRICELESS  LIFE  !" 526 

CHAPTER  LIT. 
A  MAN  VERSUS  A  CONNOISSEUR. 544 

CHAPTER  LIII. 
EXIT  OF  LAURA'S  FIRST  KNIGHT 555 

CHAPTER  LIV. 
ANOTHER  KNIGHT  APPEARS.. 565 


A  KNIGHT 


OF  THE 


NINETEENTH     CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

BAD  TRAINING  FOR  A   KNIGHT. 

EGBERT  HALDANE  had  an  enemy  who  loved 
him  very  dearly,  and  he  sincerely  returned  her 
affection,  as  he  was  in  duty  bound,  since  she  was  his 
mother.  If,  inspired  by  hate  and  malice,  Mrs.  Hal- 
dane  had  brooded  over  but  one  question  at  the 
cradle  of  her  child,  How  can  I  most  surely  destroy 
this  boy  ?  she  could  scarcely  have  set  about  the 
task  more  skillfully  and  successfully. 

But  so  far  from  having  any  such  malign  and  un 
natural  intention,  Mrs.  Haldane  idolized  her  son. 
To  make  the  paradox  more  striking,  she  was  actu 
ally  seeking  to  give  him  a  Christian  training  and 
character.  As  he  leaned  against  her  knee  Bible 
tales  were  told  him,  not  merely  for  the  sake  of  the 
marvelous  interest  which  they  ever  have  for  chil 
dren,  but  in  the  hope,  also,  that  the  moral  they 
carry  with  them  might  remain  as  germinating  seed. 
At  an  early  age  the  mother  had  commenced  taking 

13 


14    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

him  to  church,  and  often  gave  him  an  admonitory 
nudge  as  his  restless  eyes  wandered  from  the  vener 
able  face  in  the  pulpit.  In  brief,  the  apparent  influ 
ences  of  his  early  life  were  similar  to  those  existing 
in  multitudes  of  Christian  homes.  On  general  prin 
ciples  it  might  be  hoped  that  the  boy's  future  would 
be  all  that  his  friends  could  desire  ;  nor  did  he  him 
self  in  early  youth  promise  so  badly  to  superficial 
observers ;  and  the  son  of  the  wealthy  Mrs.  Hal- 
dane  was,  on  the  part  of  the  world,  more  the  object 
of  envy  than  of  censure.  But  a  close  observer,  who 
judged  of  characteristic  tendencies  and  their  results 
by  the  light  of  experience,  might  justly  fear  that  the 
mother  had  unwittingly  done  her  child  irreparable 
wrong. 

She  had  made  him  a  tyrant  and  a  relentless  task 
master  even  in  his  infancy.  As  his  baby  will  de 
veloped  he  found  it  supreme.  His  nurse  was  obliged 
to  be  a  slave  who  must  patiently  humor  every  whim. 
He  was  petted  and  coaxed  out  of  his  frequent  fits 
of  passion,  and  beguiled  from  his  obstinate  and  sulky 
moods  by  bribes.  He  was  the  eldest  child  and  only 
son,  and  his  little  sisters  were  taught  to  yield  to 
him,  right  or  wrong,  he  lording  it  over  them  with 
the  capricious  lawlessness  of  an  Eastern  despot. 
Chivalric  deference  to  woman,  and  a  disposition  to 
protect  and  honor  her,  is  a  necessary  element  of  a 
manly  character  in  our  Western  civilization  ;  but 
young  Haldane  was  as  truly  an  Oriental  as  if  he  had 
been  permitted  to  bluster  around  a  Turkish  harem ; 
and  those  whom  he  should  have  learned  to  wait  upon 
with  delicacy  and  tact  became  subservient  to  his 


BAD    TRAINING  FOR  A   KNIGHT.  I5 

varying  moods,  developing  that  essential  brutality 
which  mars  the  nature  of  every  man  that  looks  upon 
woman  as  an  inferior  and  a  servant.  He  loved  his 
mother,  but  he  did  not  reverence  and  honor  her.  The 
thought  ever  uppermost  in  his  mind  was,  "  What 
ought  she  to  do  for  me?"  not,  "What  ought  I  to 
do  for  her?  "  and  any  effort  to  curb  or  guide  on  her 
part  was  met  and  thwarted  by  passionate  or  obsti 
nate  opposition  from  him.  He  loved  his  sisters 
after  a  fashion,  because  they  were  his  sisters ;  but 
so  far  from  learning  to  think  of  them  as  those  whom 
it  would  be  his  natural  task  to  cherish  and  protect, 
they  were,  in  his  estimation,  "nothing  but  girls,"  and 
of  no  account  whatever  where  his  interests  were  con 
cerned. 

In  the  most  receptive  period  of  life  the  poison  of 
selfishness  and  self-love  was  steadily  instilled  into 
his  nature.  Before  he  had  left  the  nursery  he  had 
formed  the  habit  of  disregarding  the  wills  and  wishes 
of  others,  even  when  his  childish  conscience  told 
him  that  he  was  decidedly  in  the  wrong.  When  he 
snatched  his  sisters'  playthings  they  cried  in  vain, 
and  found  no  redress.  The  mother  made  peace  by 
smoothing  over  matters,  and  promising  the  little 
girls  something  else. 

Of  course,  the  boy  sought  to  carry  into  his  school 
life  the  same  tendencies  and  habits  which  he  had 
learned  at  home,  and  he  ever  found  a  faithful  ally 
in  his  blind,  fond  mother.  She  took  his  side  against 
his  teachers ;  she  could  not  believe  in  his  oppres 
sions  of  his  younger  playmates  ;  she  was  absurdly 
indignant  and  resentful  when  some  sturdy  boy  stood 


1 6     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

up  for  his  own  rights,  or  championed  another's,  and 
sent  the  incipient  bully  back  to  her,  crying,  and  with 
a  bloody  nose.  When  the  pampered  youth  was  a 
little  indisposed,  or  imagined  himself  so,  he  was 
coddled  at  home,  and  had  bonbons  and  fairy  tales 
in  the  place  of  lessons. 

Judicious  friends  shook  their  heads  ominously, 
and  some  even  ventured  to  counsel  the  mother  to  a 
wiser  course  ;  but  she  ever  resented  such  advice. 
The  son  was  the  image  of  his  lost  father,  and  her 
one  impulse  was  to  lavish  upon  him  every  thing 
that  his  heart  craved. 

As  if  all  this  were  not  enough,  she  placed  in  the 
boy's  way  another  snare,  which  seldom  fails  of  prov 
ing  fatal.  He  had  only  to  ask  for  money  to  obtain 
it,  no  knowledge  of  its  value  being  imparted  to  him. 
Even  when  he  took  it  from  -his  mother's  drawer 
without  asking,  her  chidings  were  feeble  and  irreso 
lute.  He  would  silence  and  half  satisfy  her  by 
saying: 

"  You  can  take  any  thing  of  mine  that  you  want. 
It's  all  in  the  family;  what  difference  does  it  make?" 

Thus  every  avenue  of  temptation  in  the  city  which 
could  be  entered  by  money  was  open  to  him,  and  he 
was  not  slow  in  choosing  those  naturally  attractive 
to  a  boy. 

But  while  his  mother  was  blind  to  the  evil  traits 
and  tendencies  which  she  was  fostering  with  such 
ominous  success,  there  were  certain  overt  acts  nat 
urally  growing  out  of  her  indulgences  which  would 
shock  her  inexpressibly,  and  evoke  even  from  her 
the  strongest  expressions  of  indignation  and  rebuke. 


BAD    TRAINING  FOR  A  KNIGHT.  17 

She  was  pre-eminently  respectable,  and  fond  of  re 
spect.  She  was  a  member  "  in  good  and  regular 
standing"  not  only  of  her  church,  but  also  of  the 
best  society  in  the  small  inland  city  where  she  re 
sided,  and  few  greater  misfortunes  in  her  estimation 
could  occur  than  to  lose  this  status.  She  never  hesi 
tated  to  humor  any  of  her  son's  whims  and  wishes 
which  did  not  threaten  their  respectability,  but  the 
quick-witted  boy  was  not  long  in  discovering  that 
she  would  not  tolerate  any  of  those  vices  and  asso 
ciations  which  society  condemns. 

There  could  scarcely  have  been  any  other  result 
save  that  which  followed.  She  had  never  taught 
him  self-restraint ;  his  own  inclinations  furnished  the 
laws  of  his  action,  and  the  wish  to  curb  his  desires 
because  they  were  wrong  scarcely  ever  crossed  his 
mind.  To  avoid  trouble  with  his  mother,  therefore, 
he  began  slyly  and  secretly  to  taste  the  forbidden 
fruits  which  her  lavish  supplies  of  money  always  kept 
within  his  reach.  In  this  manner  that  most  hope 
less  and  vitiating  of  elements,  deceitfulness,  entered 
into  his  character.  He  denied  to  his  mother,  and 
sought  to  conceal  from  her,  the  truth  that  while 
still  in  his  teens  he  was  learning  the  gambler's  infat 
uation  and  forming  the  inebriate's  appetite.  He 
tried  to  prevent  her  from  knowing  that  many  of  his 
most  intimate  associates  were  such  as  he  would  not 
introduce  to  her  or  to  his  sisters. 

He  had  received,  however,  a  few  counter-bal 
ancing  advantages  in  his  early  life.  With  all  her 
weaknesses,  his  mother  was  a  lady,  and  order,  refine 
ment,  and  elegance  characterized  his  home.  Though 


1 8    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

not  a  gentleman  at  heart,  on  approaching  manhood 
he  habitually  maintained  the  outward  bearing  that 
society  demands.  The  report  that  he  was  a  little  fast 
was  more  than  neutralized  by  the  fact  of  his  wealth. 
Indeed,  society  concluded  that  it  had  much  more 
occasion  to  smile  than  to  frown  upon  him,  and  his 
increasing  fondness  for  society  and  its  approval  in 
some  degree  curbed  his  tendencies  to  dissipation. 

It  might  also  prove  to  his  advantage  that  so  much 
Christian  and  ethical  truth  had  been  lodged  in  his 
memory  during  early  years.  His  mother  had  really 
taken  pains  to  acquaint  him  with  the  Divine  Man 
who  "  pleased  not  himself,"  even  while  she  was  prac 
tically  teaching  him  to  reverse  this  trait  in  his  own 
character.  Thus,  while  the  youth's  heart  was  sadly 
erratic,  his  head  was  tolerably  orthodox,  and  he  knew 
theoretically  the  chief  principles  of  right  action. 
Though  his  conscience  had  never  been  truly  awak 
ened,  it  often  told  him  that  his  action  was  unmanly, 
to  say  the  least ;  and  that  was  as  far  as  any  self- 
censure  could  reach  at  this  time.  But  it  might 
prove  a  fortunate  thing  that  although  thorns  and 
thistles  had  been  planted  chiefly,  some  good  seed 
had  been  scattered  also,  and  that  he  had  received 
some  idea  of  a  life  the  reverse  of  that  which  he  was 
leading. 

But  thus  far  it  might  be  said  with  almost  lit 
eral  truth,  that  young  Haldane's  acquaintance  with 
Christian  ethics  had  had  no  more  practical  effect 
upon  his  habitual  action  and  thought  than  his  knowl 
edge  of  algebra.  When  his  mother  permitted  him 
to  snatch-  his  sisters'  playthings  and  keep  them, 


BAD    TRAINING  FOR  A   KNIGHT.  19 

when  she  took  him  from  the  school  where  he  had 
received  well-merited  punishment,  when  she  en 
slaved  herself  and  her  household  to  him  instead  of 
teaching  considerate  and  loyal  devotion  to  her,  she 
nullified  all  the  Christian  instruction  that  she  or  any 
one  else  had  given. 

The  boy  had  one  very  marked  trait,  which  might 
promise  well  for  the  future,  or  otherwise,  according 
to  circumstances,  and  that  was  a  certain  willful  per 
sistence,  which  often  degenerated  into  downright 
obstinacy.  Frequently,  when  his  mother  thought 
that  she  had  coaxed  or  wheedled  him  into  giving  up 
something  of  which  she  did  not  approve,  he  would 
quietly  approach  his  object  in  some  other  way,  and 
gain  his  point,  or  sulk  till  he  did.  When  he  set  his 
heart  upon  any  thing  he  was  not  as  "  unstable  as 
water."  While  but  an  indifferent  and  superficial 
student,  who  had  habitually  escaped  lessons  and 
skipped  difficulties,  he  occasionally  became  nettled 
by  a  perplexing  problem  or  task,  and  would  work  at 
it  with  a  sort  of  vindictive,  unrelenting  earnestness, 
as  if  he  were  subduing  an  enemy.  Having  put  his 
foot  on  the  obstacle,  and  mastered  the  difficulty  that 
piqued  him,  he  would  cast  the  book  aside,  indiffer 
ent  to  the  study  or  science  of  which  it  formed  but  a 
small  fraction. 

After  all,  perhaps  the  best  that  could  be  said  of 
him  was  that  he  possessed  fair  abilities,  and  was 
still  subject  to  the  good  and  generous  impulses  of 
youth.  His  traits  and  tendencies  were,  in  the  main, 
all  wrong ;  but  he  had  not  as  yet  become  confirmed 
and  hardened  in  them.  Contact  with  the  world, 


20    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

which  sooner  or  later  tells  a  man  the  truth  about 
himself,  however  unwelcome,  might  dissipate  the  il 
lusion,  gained  from  his  mother's  idolatry,  that  in 
some  indefinite  way  he  was  remarkable  in  himself, 
and  that  he  was  destined  to  great  things  from  a 
vague  and  innate  superiority,  which  it  had  never 
occurred  to  him  to  analyze. 

But  as  the  young  man  approached  his  majority 
his  growing  habits  of  dissipation  became  so  pro 
nounced  that  even  his  willingly  blind  mother  was 
compelled  to  recognize  them.  Rumor  of  his  fast 
and  foolish  behavior  took  such  definite  shape  as  to 
penetrate  the  widow's  aristocratic  retirement,  and  to 
pass  the  barriers  created  by  the  reserve  which  she 
ever  maintained  in  regard  to  personal  and  family 
matters.  More  than  once  her  son  came  home  in  a 
condition  so  nearly  resembling  intoxication  that  she 
was  compelled  to  recognize  the  cause,  and  she  was 
greatly  shocked  and  alarmed.  Again  and  again  she 
said  to  herself; 

"  I  cannot  understand  how  a  boy  brought  up  in 
the  careful  Christian  manner  that  he  has  been  can 
show  such  unnatural  depravity.  It  is  a  dark,  mys 
terious  providence,  to  which  I  feel  I  cannot  sub 
mit." 

Though  young  Haldane  was  aware  of  his  mother's 
intolerance  of  disreputable  vices  and  follies,  he  was 
not  prepared  for  her  strong  and  even  bitter  condem 
nation  of  his  action.  Having  never  been  taught  to 
endure  from  her  nor  from  any  one  the  language  of 
rebuke,  he  retorted  as  a  son  never  should  do,  in  any 
circumstances,  and  stormy  scenes  followed. 


BAD    TRAINING  FOR  A   KNIGHT.  21 

Thus  the  mother  was  at  last  rudely  awakened  to 
the  fact  that  her  son  was  not  a  model  youth,  and 
that  something  must  be  done  speedily,  or  else  he 
might  go  to  destruction,  and  in  the  meantime  dis 
grace  both  himself  and  her — an  event  almost  equally 
to  be  dreaded. 

In  her  distress  and  perplexity  she  summoned  her 
pastor,  and  took  counsel  with  him.  At  her  request 
the  venerable  man  readily  agreed  to  "  talk  to  "  the 
wayward  subject,  and  thought  that  his  folly  and  its 
consequences  could  be  placed  before  the  young  man 
in  such  a  strong  and  logical  statement  that  it  would 
convince  him  at  once  that  he  must  "  repent  and 
walk  in  the  ways  of  righteousness."  If  Haldane's 
errors  had  been  those  of  doctrine,  Dr.  Marks  would 
have  been  an  admirable  guide  ;  but  the  trouble  was 
that  while  the  good  doctor  was  familiar  with  all  the 
readings  of  obscure  Greek  and  Hebrew  texts,  and  all 
the  shades  of  opinions  resulting,  he  was  unacquaint 
ed  with  even  the  alphabet  of  human  nature.  In  ap 
proaching  "  a  sinner,"  he  had  one  formal  and  unvary 
ing  method,  and  he  took  his  bearings  not  from  the 
bearing  of  the  subject  himself,  but  from  certain  gen 
eral  theological  truths  which  he  believed  applied  to 
the  "  unrenewed  heart  of  man  as  a  fallen  race."  He 
rather  prided  himself  upon  calling  a  sinner  a  sinner, 
and  all  things  else  by  their  right  names ;  and  thus  it 
is  evident  that  he  often  had  but  little  of  the  Pauline 
guile,  which  enabled  the  great  apostle  to  entangle 
the  wayward  feet  of  Jew,  Greek  and  Roman,  bond 
and  free,  in  heavenly  snares. 

The  youth  whom  he  was  to  convince  and  convert 


22     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

by  a  single  broadside  of  truth,  as  it  were,  moved  in 
such  an  eccentric  orbit,  that  the  doctor  could  never 
bring  his  heavy  artillery  to  bear  upon  him.  Neither 
coaxing  nor  scolding  on  the  part  of  the  mother  could 
bring  about  the  formal  interview.  At  last,  however, 
it  was  secured  by  an  accident,  and  his  mother  felt 
thereafter,  with  a  certain  sense  of  consolation,  that 
"all  had  been  done  that  could  be  done." 

Entering  the  parlor  unexpectedly  one  afternoon, 
Haldane  stumbled  directly  upon  Dr.  Marks,  who 
opened  fire  at  once  by  saying : 

"  My  young  friend,  this  is  quite  providential,  as  I 
have  long  been  wishing  for  an  interview.  Please  be 
seated,  for  I  have  certain  things  to  say  which  relate 
to  your  spiritual  and  temporal  well-being,  although 
the  latter  is  a  very  secondary  matter." 

Haldane  was  too  well  bred  to  break  rudely  and 
abruptly  away,  and  yet  it  must  be  admitted  that  he 
complied  with  very  much  the  feeling  and  grace  with 
which  he  would  enter  a  dentist's  chair. 

"  My  young  friend,  if  you  ever  wish  to  be  a  saint 
you  must  first  have  a  profound  conviction  that  you 
are  a  sinner.  I  hope  that  you  realize  that  you  are  a 
sinner." 

"  I  am  quite  content  to  be  a  gentleman,"  was  the 
brusque  reply. 

"  But  as  long  as  you  remain  an  impenitent  sinner 
you  can  never  be  even  a  true  gentleman,"  responded 
the  clergyman  somewhat  warmly. 

Haldane  had  caught  a  shocked  and  warning  look 
from  his  mother,  and  so  did  not  reply.  He  saw  that 
he  was  "in  for  it,"  as  he  would  express  himself,  and 


BAD    TRAINING  FOR  A   KNIGHT.  23 

surmised  that  the  less  he  said  the  sooner  the  ordeal 
would  be  over.  He  therefore  took  refuge  in  a  silence 
that  was  both  sullen  and  resentful.  He  was  too 
young  and  uncurbed  to  maintain  a  cold  and  impas 
sive  face,  and  his  dark  eyes  occasionally  shot  vindic 
tive  gleams  at  both  his  mother  and  her  ally,  who  had 
so  unexpectedly  caged  him  against  his  will.  Fortu 
nately  the  doctor  was  content,  after  he  had  got  under 
weigh,  to  talk  at,  instead  of  to,  his  listener,  and  thus 
was  saved  the  mortification  of  asking  questions  of 
one  who  would  not  have  answered. 

After  the  last  sonorous  period  had  been  rounded, 
the  youth  arose,  bowed  stiffly,  and  withdrew,  but 
with  a  heart  overflowing  with  a  malicious  desire  to 
retaliate.  At  the  angle  of  the  house  stood  the 
clergyman's  steady-going  mare,  and  his  low,  old- 
fashioned  buggy.  It  was  but  the  work  of  a  moment 
to  slip  part  of  the  shuck  of  a  horse-chestnut,  with  its 
sharp  spines,  under  the  collar,  so  that  when  the 
traces  drew  upon  it  the  spines  would  be  driven  into 
the  poor  beast's  neck.  Then,  going  down  to  the 
main  street  of  the  town,  through  which  he  knew 
the  doctor  must  pass  on  his  way  home,  he  took 
his  post  of  observation. 


24     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  II. 

BOTH  APOLOGIZE. 

HALDANE'S  hopes  were  realized  beyond  his 
anticipations,  for  the  doctor's  old  mare — at  first 
surprised  and  restless  from  the  wounds  made  by  the 
sharp  spines — speedily  became  indignant  and  frac 
tious,  and  at  last,  half  frantic  with  pain,  started  on 
a  gallop  down  the  street,  setting  all  the  town  agog 
with  excitement  and  alarm. 

With  grim  satisfaction  Haldane  saw  the  doctor's 
immaculate  silk  hat  fly  into  the  mud,  his  wig,  blown 
comically  awry,  fall  over  his  eyes,  and  his  spectacles 
joggle  down  until  they  sat  astride  the  tip  of  a 
rather  prominent  nose. 

Having  had  his  revenge  he  at  once  relented,  and 
rushing  out  in  advance  of  some  others  who  were 
coming  to  the  rescue,  he  caught  the  poor  beast,  and 
stopped  her  so  suddenly  that  the  doctor  was  nearly 
precipitated  over  the  dash-board.  Then,  pretending 
to  examine  the  harness  to  see  that  nothing  was 
broken,  he  quietly  removed  the  cause  of  irritation, 
and  the  naturally  sedate  beast  at  once  became  far 
more  composed  than  her  master,  for,  as  a  bystander 
remarked,  the  venerable  doctor  was  "  dreadfully 
shuck  up."  It  was  quite  in  keeping  with  Haldane's 


BOTH  APOLOGIZE.  25 

disingenuous  nature  to  accept  the  old  gentleman's 
profuse  thanks  for  the  rescue.  The  impulse  to  carry 
his  mischief  still  further  was  at  once  acted  upon,  and 
he  offered  to  see  the  doctor  safely  home. 

His  services  were  eagerly  accepted,  for  the  poor 
man  was  much  too  unnerved  to  take  the  reins  again, 
though,  had  he  known  it,  the  mare  would  now  have 
gone  to  the  parsonage  quietly,  and  of  her  own  ac 
cord. 

The  doctor  was  gradually  righted  up  and  com 
posed.  His  wig,  which  had  covered  his  left  eye,  was 
arranged  decorously  in  its  proper  place,  and  the  gold- 
rimmed  spectacles  pressed  back  so  that  the  good 
man  could  beam  mildly  and  gratefully  upon  his  sup 
posed  preserver.  The  clerical  hat,  however,  had 
lost  its  character  beyond  recovery,  and  though  its 
owner  was  obliged  to  wear  it  home,  it  must  be  con 
fessed  that  it  did  not  at  all  comport  with  the  doctor's 
dignity  and  calling. 

Young  Haldane  took  the  reins  with  a  great  show 
of  solicitude  and  vigilance,  appearing  to  dread  an 
other  display  of  viciousness  from  the  mare,  that  was 
now  most  sheep-like  in  her  docility,  and  thus,  with 
his  confiding  victim,  he  jogged  along  through  the 
crowded  street,  the  object  of  general  approval  and 
outspoken  commendation. 

"  My  dear  young  friend,"  began  the  doctor  fer 
vently,  "  I  feel  that  you  have  already  repaid  me 
amply  for  my  labors  in  your  behalf." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Haldane  demurely;  "  I  think 
we  are  getting  even." 

"  This  has  been  a  very  mysterious  affair,"  contin- 


26     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

ued  the  doctor  musingly  ;  "surely  *a  horse  is  a  vain 
thing  for  safety.'  One  is  almost  tempted  to  believe 
that  demoniacal  possession  is  not  wholly  a  thing  of 
the  past.  Indeed,  I  could  not  think  of  any  thing 
else  while  Dolly  was  acting  so  viciously  and  unac 
countably." 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  responded  Haldane  gravely; 
"  she  certainly  did  come  down  the  street  like  the 
devil." 

The  doctor  was  a  little  shocked  at  this  putting  of 
his  thoughts  into  plain  English,  for  it  sounded  some 
what  profanely.  But  he  was  in  no  mood  to  find 
fault  with  his  companion,  and  they  got  on  very  well 
together  to  the  end  of  their  brief  journey.  The 
young  scapegrace  was  glad,  indeed,  that  it  was  brief, 
for  his  self-control  was  fast  leaving  him,  and  having 
bowed  a  rather  abrupt  farewell  to  the  doctor,  he 
was  not  long  in  reaching  one  of  his  haunts,  from 
which  during  the  evening,  and  quite  late  into  the 
night,  came  repeated  peals  of  laughter,  that  grew 
more  boisterous  and  discordant  as  that  synonym  of 
mental  and  moral  anarchy,  the  "spirit  of  wine," 
gained  the  mastery. 

The  tidings  of  her  son's  exploit  in  rescuing  the 
doctor  were  not  long  in  reaching  Mrs.  Haldane,  and 
she  felt  that  the  good  seed  sown  that  day  had  borne 
immediate  fruit.  She  longed  to  fold  him  in  her 
arms  and  commend  his  courage,  while  she  poured 
out  thanksgiving  that  he  himself  had  escaped  unin 
jured,  which  immunity,  she  believed,  must  have  re 
sulted  from  the  goodness  and  piety  of  the  deed. 
But  when  he  at  last  appeared  with  step  so  unsteady 


BOTH  APOLOGIZE.  27 

and  utterance  so  thick  that  even  she  could  not  mis 
take  the  cause,  she  was  bewildered  and  bitterly  dis 
appointed  by  the  apparent,  contradictoriness  of  his 
action  ;  and  when  he,  too  far  gone  for  dissimulation, 
described  and  acted  out  in  pantomime  the  doctor's 
plight  and  appearance,  she  became  half  hysterical 
from  her  desire  to  laugh,  to  cry,  and  to  give  .vent  to 
her  kindling  indignation. 

This  anger  was  raised  almost  to  the  point  of  white 
heat  on  the  morrow.  The  cause  of  the  old  mare's 
behavior,  and  the  interview  which  had  led  to  the 
practical  joke,  soon  became  an  open  secret,  and 
while  it  convulsed  the  town  with  laughter,  it  also 
gave  the  impression  that  young  Haldane  was  in  a 
"  bad  way." 

It  was  not  long  before  Mrs.  Haldane  received  a  note 
from  an  indignant  fellow  church-member,  in  which, 
with  some  disagreeable  comment,  her  son's  conduct 
was  plainly  stated.  She  was  also  informed  that  the 
doctor  had  become  aware  of  the  rude  jest  of  which 
he  had  been  the  subject.  Mrs.  Haldane  was  almost 
furious ;  but  her  son  grew  sullen  and  obstinate  as  the 
storm  which  he  had  raised  increased.  The  only  thing 
he  would  say  as  an  apology  or  excuse  amounted  to 
this  : 

What  else  could  he  expect  from  one  whom  he  so 
emphatically  asserted  was  a  sinner? 

The  mother  wrote  at  once  to  the  doctor,  and  was 
profuse  in  her  apologies  and  regrets,  but  was  obliged 
to  admit  to  him  that  her  son  was  beyond  her  con 
trol. 

When  the  doctor  first  learned  the  truth  his  equa- 


28     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

nimity  was  almost  as  greatly  disturbed  as  it  had 
been  on  the  previous  day,  and  his  first  emotions 
were  naturally  those  of  wrath.  But  a  little  thought 
brought  him  to  a  better  mood. 

He  was  naturally  deficient  in  tact,  and  his  long 
habit  of  dwelling  upon  abstract  and  systematic  truth 
had  diminished  his  power  of  observantly  and  intui 
tively  gauging  the  character  of  the  one  with  whom 
he  was  dealing.  He  therefore  often  failed  wofully 
in  adaptation,  and  his  sermons  occasionally  went  off 
into  rarefied  realms  of  moral  space,  where  nothing 
human  existed.  But  his  heart  was  true  and  warm, 
and  his  Master's  cause  of  far  more  consequence  to 
him  than  his  own  dignity. 

As  he  considered  the  matter  maturely  he  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  there  must  have  been  something 
wrong  on  both  sides.  If  he  had  presented  the  truth 
properly  the  young  man  could  not  have  acted  so 
improperly.  After  recalling  the  whole  affair,  he  be 
came  satisfied  that  he  had  relied  far  too  much  on 
his  own  strong  logic,  and  it  had  seemed  to  him  that 
it  must  convince.  He  had  forgotten  for  the  mo 
ment  that  those  who  would  do  good  should  be  very 
humble,  and  that,  in  a  certain  sense,  they  must  take 
the  hand  of  God,  and  place  it  upon  the  one  whom 
they  would  save. 

Thus  the  honest  old  clergyman  tried  to  search  out 
the  error  and  weakness  which  had  led  to  such  a  la 
mentable  failure  in  his  efforts  ;  and  when  at  last 
Mrs.  Haldane's  note  of  sorrowful  apology  and  mo 
therly  distress  reached  him,  his  anger  was  not  only 
gone,  but  his  heart  was  full  of  commiseration  for 


BOTH  APOLOGIZE. 


29 


both  herself  and  her  son.  He  at  once  sat  <down,  and 
wrote  her  a  kind  and  consolatory  letter,  in  which 
he  charged  her  hereafter  to  trust  less  to  the  "  arm 
of  flesh  "  and  more  to  the  "  power  of  God."  He 
also  inclosed  a  note  to  the  young  man,  which  his 
mother  handed  to  him  with  a  darkly  reproachful 
glance.  He  opened  it  with  a  contemptuous  frown, 
expecting  to  find  within  only  indignant  upbraidings  ; 
but  his  face  changed  rapidly  as  he  read  the  follow 
ing  words : 

MY  DEAR  YOUNG  FRIEND  : — I  hardly  know  which  of  us  should  apol 
ogize.  I  now  perceive  and  frankly  admit  that  there  was  wrong  on 
my  side.  I  could  not  have  approached  you  and  spoken  to  you  in  the 
right  spirit,  for  if  I  had,  what  followed  could  not  have  occurred.  I 
fear  there  was  a  self-sufficiency  in  my  words  and  manner  yesterday, 
which  made  you  conscious  of  Dr.  Marks  only,  and  you  had  no  scru 
ples  in  dealing  with  Dr.  Marks  as  you  did.  If  my  words  and  bearing 
had  brought  you  face  to  face  with  my  august  yet  merciful  Master,  you 
would  have  respected  Him,  and  also  me,  His  servant.  I  confess 
that  I  was  very  angry  this  morning,  for  I  am  human.  But  now  I  am 
more  concerned  lest  I  have  prejudiced  you  against  Him  by  whom 
alone  we  all  are  saved. 

Yours  faithfully,    - 

ZEBULON  MARKS. 

The  moment  Haldane  finished  reading  the  note 
he  left  the  room,  and  his  mother  heard  him  at  the 
hat-rack  in  the  hall,  preparing  to  go  out.  She,  sup 
posing  that  he  was  again  about  to  seek  some  of  his 
evil  haunts,  remonstrated  sharply ;  but,  without  pay 
ing  the  slightest  attention  to  her  words,  he  departed, 
and  within  less  than  half  an  hour  rang  the  bell  at 
the  parsonage. 

Dr.  Marks  could  scarcely  believe  his  eyes  as  the 
young  man  was  shown  into  his  study,  but  he  wel- 


30    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

corned  him  as  cordially  as  though  nothing  unpleas 
ant  had  occurred  between  them. 

After  a  moment's  hesitation  and  embarrassment 
Haldane  began, 

"When  I  read  your  note  this  evening  I  had  not 
the  slightest  doubt  that  I  was  the  one  to  apologize, 
and  I  sincerely  ask  your  pardon." 

The  old  gentleman's  eyes  grew  moist,  and  he 
blew  his  nose  in  a  rather  unusual  manner.  But  he 
said  promptly : 

"  Thank  you,  my  young  friend,  thank  you.  I 
appreciate  this.  But  no  matter  about  me.  How 
about  my  Master?  won't  you  become  reconciled  to 
Him?" 

"  I  suppose  by  that  you  mean,  won't  you  be  a 
Christian?  " 

"  That  is  just  what  I  mean  and  most  desire.  I 
should  be  willing  to  risk  broken  bones  any  day  to 
acccomplish  that." 

Haldane  smiled,  shook  his  head,  and  after  a  mo 
ment  said  : 

"  I  must  confess  that  I  have  not  the  slightest  wish 
to  become  a  Christian." 

The  old  gentleman's  eager  and  interested  expres 
sion  changed  instantly  to  one  of  the  deepest  sorrow 
and  commiseration.  At  the  same  time  he  appeared 
bewildered  and  perplexed,  but  murmured,  more  in 
soliloquy  than  as  an  address  to  the  young  man, 

"  O  Ephraim  !   how  shall  I  give  thee  up?" 

Haldane  was  touched  by  the  venerable  man's  tone 
and  manner,  more  than  he  would  have  thought  pos 
sible,  and,  feeling  that  he  could  not  trust  himself 


BOTH  APOLOGIZE.  31 

any  longer,  determined  to  make  his  escape  as  soon 
as  possible.  But  as  he  rose  to  take  his  leave  he 
said,  a  little  impulsively: 

"  I  feel  sure,  sir,  that  if  you  had  spoken  and  looked 
yesterday  as  you  do  this  evening  I  would  not  have — 
I  would  not  have — " 

"  I  understand,  my  young  friend  :  I  now  feel  sure 
that  I  was  more  to  blame  than  yourself,  and  your 
part  is  already  forgiven  and  forgotten.  I  am  now 
only  solicitous  about  you" 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  feel  so  after  what  has  hap 
pened,  and  I  will  say  this  much — If  I  ever  do  wish  to 
become  a  Christian,  there  is  no  one  living  to  whom 
I  will  come  for  counsel  more  quickly  than  yourself. 
Good  night,  sir." 

"  Give  me  your  hand  before  you  go." 

It  was  a  strong,  warm,  lingering  grasp  that  the  old 
man  gave,  and  in  the  dark  days  of  temptation  that 
followed,  Haldane  often  felt  that  it  had  a  helping  and 
sustaining  influence. 

"  I  wish  I  could  hold  on  to  you,"  said  the  doc 
tor  huskily;  "I  wish  I  could  lead  you  by  loving 
force  into  the  paths  of  pleasantness  and  peace.  But 
what  I  can't  do,  God  can.  Good-by,  and  God  bless 
you." 

Haldane  fled  rather  precipitously,  for  he  felt  that 
he  was  becoming  constrained  by  a  loving  violence 
that  was  as  mysterious  as  it  was  powerful.  Before 
he  had  passed  through  the  main  street  of  the  town, 
however,  a  reckless  companion  placed  an  arm  in  his, 
and  led  him  to  one  of  their  haunts,  where  he  drank 
deeper  than,  usual,  that  he  might  get  rid  of  the 


32     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

compunctions  which  the  recent  interview  had  oc 
casioned. 

His  mother  was  almost  in  despair  when  he  re 
turned.  He  had,  indeed,  become  to  her  a  terrible 
and  perplexing  problem.  As  she  considered  the 
legitimate  results  of  her  own  weak  indulgence  she 
would  sigh  again  and  again  : 

"  Never  was  there  a  darker  and  more  mysterious 
providence.  I  feel  that  I  can  neither  understand  it 
nor  submit." 

A  sense  of  helplessness  in  dealing  with  this  stub 
born  and  perverse  will  overwhelmed  her,  and,  while 
feeling  that  something  must  be  done,  she  was  at  a 
what  loss  to  do.  Her  spiritual  adviser  having  failed 
to  meet  the  case,  she  next  summoned  her  legal 
counselor,  who  managed  her  property. 

,He  was  a  man  of  few  words,  and  an  adept  in 
worldly  wisdom. 

"  Your  son  should  have  employment,"  he  sai-d ; 

" '  Satan  finds  some  mischief  still 
For  idle  hands/ 

etc.,  is  a  sound  maxim,  if  not  first-class  poetry.  If 
Mr.  Arnot,  the  husband  of  your  old  friend,  is  willing 
to  take  him,  you  cannot  do  better  than  place  your 
son  in  his  charge,  for  he  is  one  of  the  most  methodi 
cal  and  successful  business  men  of  my  acquaintance." 
Mrs.  Arnot,  in  response  to  her  friend's  letter,  in 
duced  her  husband  to  make  a  position  in  his  count 
ing-house  for  young  Haldane,  who,  from  a  natural 
desire  to  see  more  of  the  world,  entered  into  the  ar 
rangement  very  willingly. 


CHAINED   TO  AN  ICEBERG.  33 


CHAPTER  III. 

CHAINED   TO  AN  ICEBERG. 

HILLATON,  the  suburban  city  in  which  the 
Arnots  resided,  was  not  very  distant  from  New 
York,  and  drew  much  of  its  prosperity  from  its  rela 
tions  with  the  metropolis.  It  prided  itself  much  on 
being  a  university  town,  but  more  because  many  old 
families  of  extremely  blue  blood  and  large  wealth 
gave  tone  and  color  to  its  society.  It  is  true  that  this 
highest  social  circle  was  very  exclusive,  and  formed 
but  a  small  fraction  of  the  population;  but  the  peo 
ple  in  general  had  come  to  speak  of  "  our  society," 
as  being  "  unusually  good,"  just  as  they  commended 
to  strangers  the  architecture  of  "  our  college  build 
ings,"  though  they  had  little  to  do  with  either. 

Mrs.  Arnot's  blood,  however,  was  as  blue  as  that 
of  the  most  ancient  and  aristocratic  of  her  neigh 
bors,  while  in  character  and  culture  she  had  few 
equals.  But  with  the  majority  of  those  most  ceru 
lean  in  their  vital  fluid  the  fact  that  she  possessed 
large  wealth  in  her  own  name,  and  was  the  wife  of 
a  man  engaged  in  a  colossal  business,  weighed  more 
than  all  her  graces  and  ancestral  honors. 

Young  Haldane's  employer,  Mr.  Arnot,  was,  in 
deed,  a  man  of  business  and  method,  for  the  one  ab- 


34.   KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

sorbed  his  very  soul,  and  the  other  divided  his  life 
into  cubes  and  right  angles  of  manner  and  habit.  It 
could  scarcely  be  said  that  he  had  settled  down  into 
ruts,  for  this  would  presuppose  the  passiveness  of  a 
nature  controlled  largely  by  circumstances.  People 
who  travel  in  ruts  more  often  drop  into  those  made 
by  others  than  such  as  are  worn  by  themselves.  Mr. 
Arnot  moved  rather  in  his  own  well-defined  grooves, 
which  he  had  deliberately  furrowed  out  with  his  own 
steely  will.  In  these  he  went  through  the  day  with 
the  same  strong,  relentless  precision  which  charac 
terized  the  machinery  in  his  several  manufacturing 
establishments. 

He,  too,  was  a  man  who  had  always  had  his  own 
way,  and,  as  is  usually  true  in  such  instances,  the 
forces  of  his  life  had  become  wholly  centripetal. 

The  cosmos  of  the  selfish  man  or  woman  is  prac 
tically  this — Myself  the  center  of  the  universe,  and 
all  things  else  are  near  or  remote,  of  value  or  other 
wise,  in  accordance  with  their  value  and  interest  to 
me. 

Measuring  by  this  scale  of  distances  (which  was 
the  only  correct  one  in  the  case  of  Mr.  Arnot)  the 
wife  of  his  bosom  was  quite  a  remote  object.  She 
formed  no  part  of  his  business,  and  he,  in  his  hard, 
narrow  worldliness,  could  not  even  understand  the 
principles  and  motives  of  her  action.  She  was  a 
true  and  dutiful  wife,  and  presided  over  his  house 
hold  with  elegance  and  refinement ;  but  he  regarded 
all  this  as  a  matter  of  course.  He  could  not  con 
ceive  of  any  thing  else  in  his  wife.  All  his  "  subor 
dinates,"  in  their  several  spheres,  "must"  perform 


CHAINED   TO  AN  ICEBERG.  35 

their  duties  with  becoming  propriety.  Every  thing 
"must  be  regular  and  systematic  "  in  his  house,  as 
truly  as  in  his  factories  and  counting-room. 

Mrs.  Arnot  endeavored  to  conform  to  his  pecu 
liarities  in  this  respect,  and  kept  open  the  domestic 
grooves  in  which  it  was  necessary  to  his  peace  that 
he  should  move  regularly  and  methodically.  He 
had  his  meals  at  the  hour  he  chose,  to  the  moment; 
and  when  he  retired  to  his  library — or,  rather,  the 
business  office  at  his  house—not  the  throne-room 
of  King  Ahasuerus  was  more  sacred  from  intrusion  ; 
and  seldom  to  his  wife,  even,  was  the  scepter  of 
favor  and  welcome  held  out,  should  she  venture  to 
enter. 

For  a  long  time  she  had  tried  to  be  an  affectionate 
as  well  as  a  faithful  wife,  for  she  had  married  this 
man  from  love.  She  had  mistaken  his  cool  self-poise 
for  the  calmness  and  steadiness  of  strength  ;  and 
women  are  captivated  by  strength,  and  sometimes 
by  its  semblance.  He  was  strong ;  but  so  also  are 
the  driving-wheels  of  an  engine. 

There  is  an  undefined,  half-recognized  force  in 
nature  which  leads  many  to  seek  to  balance  them 
selves  by  marrying  their  opposites  in  temperament. 
While  the  general  working  of  this  tendency  is,  no 
doubt,  beneficent,  it  not  unfrequently  brings  together 
those  who  are  so  radically  different,  that  they  cannot 
supplement  each  other,  but  must  ever  remain  two 
distinct,  unblended  lives,  that  are  in  duty  bound  to 
obey  the  letter  of  the  law  of  marriage,  but  who  can 
not  fulfill  its  spirit. 

For   years    Mrs.   Arnot   had   sought   with    all    a 


36     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

woman's  tact  to  consummate  their  marriage,  so  that 
the  mystical  words  of  God,  "  And  they  twain  shall 
be  one  flesh,"  should  describe  their  union  ;  but  as 
time  passed  she  had  seen  her  task  grow  more  and 
more  hopeless.  The  controlling  principles  of  each 
life  were  utterly  different.  He  was  hardening  into 
stone,  while  the  dross  and  materiality  of  her  nature 
were  being  daily  refined  away.  A  strong  but  wholly 
selfish  character  cannot  blend  by  giving  and  taking, 
and  thus  becoming  modified  into  something  different 
and  better.  It  can  only  absorb,  and  thus  drag  down 
to  its  own  condition.  Before  there  can  be  unity, 
the  weaker  one  must  give  up  and  yield  personal 
will  and  independence  to  such  a  degree  that  it  is  al 
most  equivalent  to  being  devoured  and  assimilated. 

But  Mr.  Arnot  seemed  to  grow  too  narrow  and 
self-sufficient  in  his  nature  for  such  spiritual  canni 
balism,  even  had  his  wife  been  a  weak,  neutral  char 
acter,  with  no  decided  and  persistent  individuality 
of  her  own.  He  was  not  slow  in  exacting  outward 
and  mechanical  service,  but  he  had  no  time  to 
"  bother  "  with  her  thoughts,  feelings,  and  opinions  ; 
nor  did  he  think  it  worth  while,  to  any  extent,  to 
lead  her  to  reflect  only  his  feelings  and  opinions. 
Neither  she  nor  any  one  else  was  very  essential  to 
him.  His  business  was  necessary,  and  he  valued  it 
even  more  than  the  wealth  which  resulted  from  it. 
He  grew  somewhat  like  his  machinery,  which  needed 
attention,  but  which 'cherished  no  sentiments  to 
ward  those  who  waited  on  it  during  its  hours  of 
motion. 

Thus,    though   not  deliberately   intending  it,   his 


CHAINED    TO  AN  ICEBERG.  37 

manner  toward  his  wife  had  come  to  be  more  and 
more  the  equivalent  of  a  steady  black  frost,  and  she 
at  last  feared  that  the  man  had  congealed  or  petri 
fied  to  his  very  heart's  core. 

•  While  the  only  love  in  Mr.  Arnot's  heart  was  self- 
love,  even  in  this  there  existed  no  trace  of  weak  in 
dulgence  and  tenderness.  His  life  consisted  in  mak- 
•ing  his  vast  and  complicated  business  go  forward 
steadily,  systematically,  and  successfully  ;  and  he 
would  not  permit  that  entity  known  as  Thomas 
Arnot  to  thwart  him  any  more  than  he  would  brook 
opposition  or  neglect  in  his  office-boy.  All  things, 
even  himself,  must  bend  to  the  furtherance  of  his 
cherished  objects. 

But,  whatever  else  was  lacking,  Mr.  Arnot  had  a 
profound  respect  for  his  wife.  First  and  chiefly,  she 
was  wealthy,  and  he,  having  control  of  her  property, 
made  it  subservient  to  his  business.  He  had  chafed 
at  first  against  what  he  termed  her  "  sentimental 
ways  of  doing  good  "  and  her  "  ridiculous  theories," 
but  in  these  matters  he  had  ever  found  her  as  gentle 

o 

as  a  woman,  but  as  unyielding  as  granite.  She  told 
him  plainly  that  her  religious  life  and  its  expression 
were  matters  between  herself  and  God — that  it  was 
a  province  into  which  his  cast-iron  system  and  ma 
terial  philosophy  could  not  enter.  He  grumbled  at 
her  large  charities,  and  declared  that  she  "  turned 
their  dwelling  into  a  club-house  for  young  men  ;  " 
but  she  followed  her  conscience  with  such  a  quiet, 
unswerving  dignity  that  he  found  no  pretext  for  in 
terference.  The  money  she  gave  away  was  her  own, 
and,  fortunately,  the  house  to  which  it  was  her  de- 


38     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEEETH  CENTURY. 

light  to  draw  young  men  from  questionable  and  dis 
reputable  places  of  resort  had  been  left  to  her  by 
her  father.  Though  she  did  not  continually  remind 
her  husband  of  these  facts,  as  an  under-bred  woman 
might  have  done,  her  manner  was  so  assured  and 
unhesitating  that  he  was  compelled  to  recognize  her 
rights,  and  to  see  that  she  was  fully  aware  of  them 
also.  Since  she  yielded  so  gracefully  and  consider 
ately  all  and  more  than  he  could  justly  claim,  he 
finally  concluded  to  ignore  what  he  regarded  as  her 
"  peculiarities."  As  for  himself,  he  had  no  peculiari 
ties.  He  was  a  "  practical,  sensible,  man,  with  no 
nonsense  about  him." 

Mrs.  Haldane  had  been  in  such  sore  straits  and 
perplexity  about  her  son  that  she  overcame  her  ha 
bitual  reserve  upon  family  and  personal  matters, 
and  wrote  to  her  friend  a  long  and  confidential  let 
ter,  in  which  she  fully  described  the  "  mysterious 
providence  "  which  was  clouding  her  life. 

Mrs.  Arnot  had  long  been  aware  of  her  friend's 
infirmity,  and  more  than  once  had  sought  with  deli 
cacy  and  yet  with  faithfulness  to  open  her  eyes  to  the 
consequences  of  her  indulgence.  But  Mrs.  Haldane, 
unfortunately,  was  incapable  of  taking  a  broad,  and 
therefore  correct,  view  of  any  thing.  She  was  gov 
erned  far  more  by  her  prejudices  and  feelings  than 
by  reason  or  experience,  and  the  emotion  or  preju 
dice  uppermost  absorbed  her  mind  so  completely  as 
to  exclude  all  other  considerations.  Her  friendship 
for  Mrs.  Arnot  had  commenced  at  school,  but  the 
two  ladies  had  developed  so  differently  that  the  re 
lation  had  become  more  a  cherished  memory  of  the 


CHAINED    TO  AN  ICEBERG. 


39 


happy  past  than  a  congenial  intimacy  of  their  ma- 
turer  life. 

The  "  mysterious  providence"  of  which  Mrs.  Hal- 
dane  wrote  was  to  Mrs.  Arnot  a  legitimate  and  al 
most  inevitable  result.  But,  now  that  the  mischief 
had  been  accomplished,  she  was  the  last  one  in  the 
world  to  say  to  her  friend,  "  I  told  you  so."  To  her 
mind  the  providential  feature  in  the  matter  was  the 
chance  that  had  come  to  her  of  counteracting  the 
evil  which  the  mother  had  unconsciously  developed. 
This  opportunity  was  in  the  line  of  her  most  cher 
ished  plan  and  hope  of  usefulness,  as  will  be  here 
after  seen,  and  she  had  lost  no  time  in  persuading 
her  husband  to  give  Haldane  employment  in  his 
counting-room.  She  also  secured  his  consent  that 
the  youth  should  become  a  member  of  the  family, 
for  a  time  at  least.  Mr.  Arnot  yielded  these  points 
reluctantly,  for  it  was  a  part  of  his  policy  to  have 
no  more  personal  relations  with  his  employes  than 
with  his  machinery.  He  wished  them  to  feel  that 
they  were  merely  a  part  of  his  system,  and  that  the 
moment  any  one  did  not  work  regularly  and  accu 
rately  he  must  be  cast  aside  as  certainly  as  a  broken 
or  defective  wheel.  But  as  his  wife's  wealth  made 
her  practically  a  silent  partner  in  his  vast  business, 
he  yielded — though  with  rather  ill  grace,  and  with  a 
prediction  that  it  "  would  not  work  well." 

Haldane  was  aware  that  his  mother  had  written  a 
long  letter  to  Mrs.  Arnot,  and  he  supposed  that  his 
employer  and  his  wife  had  thus  become  acquainted 
with  all  his  misdeeds.  He,  therefore,  rather  dread 
ed  to  meet  those  who  must,  from  the  first,  regard 


40    KNIGHT  OF'  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

him  as  a  graceless  and  difficult  subject,  that  could 
not  be  managed  at  home.  But,  with  the  character 
istic  recklessness  of  young  men  who  have  wealth  to 
fall  back  upon,  he  had  fortified  himself  by  thoughts 
like  the  following : 

"  If  they  do  not  treat  me  well,  or  try  to  put  me 
into  a  straight-jacket,  or  if  I  find  the  counting-house 
too  dull,  I  can  bid  them  good  morning  whenever  I 
choose." 

But  Mrs.  Arnot's  frank  and  cordial  reception  was 
an  agreeable  surprise.  He  arrived  quite  late  in  the 
evening,  and  she  had  a  delightful  little  lunch  brought 
to  him  in  her  private  parlor.  By  the  time  it  was 
eaten  her  graceful  tact  had  banished  all  stiffness  and 
sense  of  strangeness,  and  he  found  himself  warm 
ing  into  friendliness  toward  one  whom  he  had  espe 
cially  dreaded  as  a  "  remarkably  pious  lady" — for 
thus  his  mother  had  always  spoken  of  her. 

It  was  scarcely  strange  that  he  should  be  rapidly 
disarmed  by  this  lady,  who  cannot  be  described  in 
a  paragraph.  Though  her  face  was  rather  plain,  it 
was  so  expressive  of  herself  that  it  seldom  failed 
to  fascinate.  Nature  can  do  much  to  render  a 
countenance  attractive,  but  character  accomplishes 
far  more.  The  beauty  which  is  of  feature  merely 
catches  the  careless,  wandering  eye.  The  beauty 
which  is  the  reflex  of  character  holds  the  eye,  and 
eventually  wins  the  heart.  Those  who  knew  Mrs. 
Arnot  best  declared  that,  instead  of  growing  old 
and  homely,  she  was  growing  more  lovely  every 
year.  Her  dark  hair  had  turned  gray  early,  and 
was  fast  becoming  snowy  white.  For  some  years 


CHAINED    TO  AN  ICEBERG.  4I 

after  her  marriage  she  had  grown  old  very  fast.  She 
had  dwelt,  as  it  were,  on  the  northern  side  of  an 
iceberg,  and  in  her  vain  attempt  to  melt  and  hu 
manize  it,  had  almost  perished  herself.  As  the 
earthly  streams  and  rills  that  fed  her  life  congealed, 
she  was  led  to  accept  of  the  love  of  God,  and  the 
long  arctic  winter  of  her  despair  passed  gradually 
away.  She  was  now  growing  young  again.  A  faint 
bloom  was  dawning  in  her  cheeks,  and  her  form 
was  gaining  that  fullness  which  is  associated  with 
the  maturity  of  middle  age.  Her  bright  black  eyes 
were  the  most  attractive  and  expressive  feature 
which  she  possessed,  and  they  often  seemed  gifted 
with  peculiar  powers. 

As  they  beamed  upon  the  young  man  they  had 
much  the  same  effect  as  the  anthracite  coals  which 
glowed  in  the  grate,  and  he  began  to  be  conscious 
of  some  disposition  to  give  her  his  confidence. 

Having  dismissed  the  servant  with  the  lunch  tray, 
she  caused  him  to  draw  his  chair  sociably  up  to 
the  fire,  and  said,  without  any  circumlocution  : 

"  Mr.  Haldane,  perhaps  this  is  the  best  time  for 
us  to  have  a  frank  talk  in  regard  to  the  future." 

The  young  man  thought  that  this  was  the  preface 
for  some  decided  criticism  of  the  past,  and  his  face 
became  a  little  hard  and  defiant.  But  in  this  he  was 
mistaken,  for  the  lady  made  no  reference  to  his 
faults,  of  which  she  had  been  informed  by  his  mother. 
She  spoke  in  a  kindly  but  almost  in  a  business-like 
way  of  his  duties  in  the  counting-room,  and  of  the 
domestic  rules  of  the  household,  to  which  he  would 
be  expected  to  conform.  She  also  spoke  plainly  of 


42     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

her  husband's  inexorable  requirement  of  system,  re 
gularity,  and  order,  and  dwelt  upon  the  fact  that  all 
in  his  employ  conformed  to  this  demand,  and  that 
it  was  the  business-like  and  manly  thing  to  do. 

"  This  is  your  first  venture  out  into  the  world,  I 
understand,"  she  said,  rising  to  intimate  that  their 
interview  was  over,  "  and  I  greatly  wish  that  it  may 
lead  toward  a  useful  and  successful  career.  I  have 
spoken  plainly  because  I  wished  you  to  realize  just 
what  you  have  undertaken,  and  thus  meet  with 
no  unpleasant  surprises  or  unexpected  experiences. 
When  one  enters  upon  a  course  with  his  eyes  open, 
he  in  a  certain  sense  pledges  himself  to  do  the  best 
he  can  in  that  line  of  duty,  and  our  acquaintance, 
though  so  brief,  has  convinced  me  that  you  can  do 
very  well  indeed." 

"  I  was  under  the  impression,"  said  the  young 
man,  coloring  deeply,  "  that  my  mother's  letter  had 
led  you  to  suppose — to  expect  just  the  contrary." 

"  Mr.  Haldane,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  giving  him  her 
hand  with  graceful  tact,  "  I  shall  form  my  opinion 
of  you  solely  on  the  ground  of  your  own  action,  and 
I  wish  you  to  think  of  me  as  a  friend  who  takes  a 
genuine  interest  in  your  success.  Good  night." 

He  went  to  his  room  in  quite  a  heroic  and  virtu 
ous  mood. 

"  She  does  not  treat  me  a  bit  like  a  '  bad  boy/  as 
I  supposed  she  would,"  he  thought ;  "  but  appears  to 
take  it  for  granted  that  I  shall  be  a  gentleman  in 
this  her  house,  and  a  sensible  fellow  in  her  husband's 
office.  Blow  me  if  I  disappoint  her  !  " 

Nor  did   he  for  several  weeks.     Even  Mr.  Arnot 


CHAINED    TO  AN  ICEBERG.  43 

was  compelled  to  admit  that  it  did  "  work  rather 
better  than  he  expected,"  and  that  he  "  supposed 
the  young  fellow  did  as  well  as  he  could." 

As  the  novelty  of  Haldane's  new  relations  wore 
off,  however,  and  as  his  duties  became  so  familiar  as 
to  be  chiefly  a  matter  of  routine,  the  grave  defects 
of  his  character  and  training  began  to  show  them 
selves.  The  restraint  of  the  counting-room  grew 
irksome.  Associations  were  formed  in  the  city  which 
tended  toward  his  old  evil  habits.  As  a  piece  of  Mr. 
Arnot's  machinery  he  did  not  move  with  the  increas 
ing  precision  that  his  employer  required  and  expected 
on  his  becoming  better  acquainted  with  his  duties. 

Mrs.  Arnot  had  expected  this,  and  knew  that  her 
husband  would  tolerate  carelessness  and  friction  only 
up  to  a  certain  point.  She  had  gained  more  influ 
ence  over  the  young  man  than  any  one  else  had  ever 
possessed,  and  by  means  of  it  kept  him  within 
bounds  for  some  time ;  but  she  saw  from  her  hus 
band's  manner  that  things  were  fast  approaching  a 
crisis. 

One  evening  she  kindly,  but  frankly,  told  him  of 
the  danger  in  which  he  stood  of  an  abrupt,  stern  dis 
missal. 

He  was  more  angry  than  alarmed,  and  during  the 
following  day  about  concluded  that  he  would  save 
himself  any  such  mortification  by  leaving  of  his  own 
accord.  He  quite  persuaded  himself  that  he  had  a 
soul  above  plodding  business,  and  that,  after  enjoy 
ing  himself  at  home  for  a  time,  he  could  enter  upon 
some  other  career,  that  promised  more  congeniality 
and  renown. * 


44     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

In  order  that  his  employer  might  not  anticipate 
him,  he  performed  his  duties  very  accurately  that 
day,  but  left  the  office  with  the  expectation  of  never 
returning. 

He  had  very  decided  compunctions  in  thus  requit 
ing  Mrs.  Arnot's  kindness,  but  muttered  recklessly  : 

"  I'm  tired  of  this  humdrum,  treadmill  life,  and 
believe  I'm  destined  to  better  things.  If  I  could 
only  get  a  good  position  in  the  army  or  navy,  the 
world  would  hear  from  me.  They  say  money  opens 
every  door,  and  mother  must  open  some  good  wide 
door  for  me." 

Regardless  now  of  his  employer's  good  or  bad 
opinion,  he  came  down  late  to  supper ;  but,  instead 
of  observing  with  careless  defiance  the  frown  which 
he  knew  lowered  toward  him,  his  eyes  were  drawn 
to  a  fair  young  face  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
table. 

Mrs.  Arnot,  in  her  pleasant,  cordial  voice,  which 
made  the  simplest  thing  she  said  seem  real  and  hearty, 
rather  than  conventional,  introduced  him : 

"  Mr.  Haldane,  my  niece,  Miss  Laura  Romeyn. 
Laura,  no  doubt,  can  do  far  more  than  an  old  lady  to 
make  your  evenings  pass  brightly." 

After  a  second  glance  of  scrutiny,  Haldane  was  so 
ungratefully  forgetful  of  all  Mrs.  Arnot's  kindness  as 
to  be  inclined  to  agree  with  her  remark. 


IMMA  TURE. 


45 


CHAPTER  IV. 

IMMATURE. 

"  TS  she  a  young  lady,  or  merely  a  school-girl?*' 
-L  was  Haldane's  query  concerning  the  stranger 
sitting  opposite  to  him  ;  and  he  addressed  to  her  a 
few  commonplace  but  exploring  remarks.  Regard 
ing  himself  as  well  acquainted  with  society  in  gen 
eral,  and  young  ladies  in  particular, 'he  expected  to 
solve  the  question  at  once,  and  was  perplexed  that 
he  could  not.  He  had  flirted  with  several  misses  as 
immature  as  himself,  and  so  thought  that  he  was 
profoundly  versed  in  the  mysteries  of  the  sex. 
"  They  naturally  lean  toward  and  look  up  to  men, 
and  one  is  a  fool,  or  else  lacking  in  personal  appear 
ance,  who  does  not  have  his  own  way  with  them," 
was  his  opinion,  substantially. 

Modesty  is  a  grace  which  fine-looking  young  men 
of  large  wealth  are  often  taught  by  some  severe  ex 
periences,  if  they  ever  learn  it.  Haldane,  as  yet, 
had  not  received  such  wholesome  depletion.  His 
self-approval  and  assurance,  moreover,  were  quite 
natural,  since  his  mother  an-d  sisters  had  seldom  lost 
an  opportunity  of  developing  and  confirming  these 
traits.  The  yielding  of  women  to  his  will  and  wishes 
had  been  one  of  the  most  uniform  experiences  of  his 


46    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

life,  and  he  had  come  to  regard  it  as  the  natural 
order  of  tilings.  Without  formulating  the  thought  in 
plain  words,  he  nevertheless  regarded  Mrs.  Arnot's 
kindness,  by  which  she  sought  to  gain  a  helpful  in 
fluence  over  him,  as  largely  due  to  some  peculiar 
fascination  of  his  own,  which  made  him  a  favorite 
wherever  he  chose  to  be.  Of  course,  the  young 
stranger  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table  would 
prove  no  exception  to  the  rule,  and  all  he  had  to  do 
was  to  satisfy  himself  that  she  was  sufficiently  pretty 
and  interesting  to  make  it  worth  while  to  pay  her  a 
little  attention. 

But  for  some  reason  she  did  not  seem  greatly  im 
pressed  by  his  commonplace  and  rather  patronizing 
•remarks.  Was  it  pride  or  dignity  on  her  part,  or 
was  it  mere  girlish  shyness?  It  must  be  the  latter, 
for  there  was  no  occasion  for  pride  and  dignity  in 
her  manner  toward  him. 

Then  came  the  thought  that  possibly  Mrs.  Arnot 
had  not  told  her  who  he  was,  and  that  she  looked 
upon  him  as  a  mere  clerk  of  low  degree.  To  remove 
from  her  mind  any  such  error,  his  tones  and  manner 
became  still  more  self-asserting  and  patronizing. 

"If  she  has  any  sense  at  all,"  he  thought,  "she 
shall  see  that  I  have  peculiar  claims  to  her  respect." 

As  he  proceeded  in  these  tatics,  there  was  a  grow 
ing  expression  of  surprise  and  a  trace  of  indignation 
upon  the  young  girl's  face.  Mrs.  Arnot  watched  the 
by-play  with  an  amused,  expression.  There  was  not 
much  cynicism  in  her  nature.  She  believed  that  ex 
perience  would  soon  prick  the  bubble  of  his  vanity, 
and  it  was  her  disposition  to  smile  rather  than  to 


IMMATURE.  4.7 

sneer  at  absurdity  in  others.  Besides,  she  was  just. 
She  never  applied  to  a  young  man  of  twenty  the 
standard  by  which  she  would  measure  those  of  her 
own  age,  and  she  remembered  Haldane's  antece 
dents.  But  Mr.  Arnot  went  to  his  library  mutter 
ing, 

"  The  ridiculous  fool !  " 

When  Miss  Romeyn  rose  from  the  table,  Haldane 
saw  that  she  was  certainly  tall  enough  to  be  a  young 
lady,  for  she  was  slightly  above  medium  height.  He 
still  believed  that  she  was  very  young,  however,  for 
her  figure  was  slight  and  girlish,  and  while  her  bear 
ing  was  graceful  it  had  not  that  assured  and  pro 
nounced  character  to  which  he  had  been  accustomed. 

"  She  evidently  has  not  seen  much  of  society. 
Well,  since  she  is  not  gawky,  I  like  her  better  than 
if  she  were  blast.  Any  thing  but  your  blast  girls,"  he 
observed  to  himself,  with  a  consciousness  that  he 
was  an  experienced  man  of  the  world. 

The  piano  stood  open  in  the  drawing-room,  and 
this  suggested  music.  Haldane  had  at  his  tongue's 
end  the  names  of  half  a  dozen  musicians  whose  pro 
fessional  titles  had  been  prominent  in  the  newspapers 
for  a  few  months  previous,  and  whose  merits  had 
formed  a  part  of  the  current  chit-chat  of  the  day. 
Some  he  had  heard,  and  others  he  had  not,  but  he 
could  talk  volubly  of  all,  and  he  asked  Miss  Romeyn 
for  her  opinion  of  one  and  another  in  a  manner 
which  implied  that  of  course  she  knew  about  them, 
and  that  ignorance  in  regard  to  such  persons  was 
not  to  be  expected. 

Her  face  colored  with  annoyance,  but  she  said 


48     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

quietly  and  a  trifle  coldly  that  she  had  not  heard 
them. 

Mrs.  Arnot  again  smiled  as  she  watched  the  young 
people,  but  she  now  came  to  her  niece's  rescue, 
thinking  also  it  would  be  well  to  disturb  Haldane's 
sense  of  superiority  somewhat.  So  she  said  : 

"  Laura,  since  we  cannot  hear  this  evening  the 
celebrated  artists  that  Mr.  Haldane  has  mentioned, 
we  must  content  ourselves  with  simple  home  music. 
Won't  you  play  for  us  that  last  selection  of  which 
you  wrote  to  me  ?  " 

"I  hardly  dare,  auntie,  since  Mr.  Haldane  is  such 
a  critical  judge,  and  has  heard  so  much  music  from 
those  who  make  it  a  business  to  be  perfect.  He 
must  have  listened  to  the  selection  you  name  a  hun 
dred  times,  for  it  is  familiar  to  most  lovers  of  good 
music." 

Haldane  had  sudden  misgivings.  Suppose  he  had 
not  heard  it  ?  This  would  be  awkward,  after  his 
assumed  acquaintance  with  such  matters. 

"  Even  if  Mr.  Haldane  is  familiar  with  it,"  Mrs. 
Arnot  replied,  "  Steibelt's  Storm  Rondo  will  bear 
repetition.  Besides,  his  criticism  may  be  helpful, 
since  he  can  tell  you  wherein  you  come  short  of  the 
skilled  professionals." 

Laura  caught  the  twinkle  in  her  aunt's  eye,  and 
went  to  the  piano. 

The  young  man  saw  at  once  that  he  had  been 
caught  in  his  own  trap,  for  the  music  was  utterly 
unfamiliar.  The  rondo  was  no  wonderful  piece  of 
intricacy,  such  as  a  professional  might  choose.  On 
the  contrary,  it  was  simple,  and  quite  within  the 


IMMA  TURE.  4g 

capabilities  of  a  young  and  well-taught  girl.  But  it 
was  full  of  rich  melody  which  even  he,  in  his  igno 
rance,  could  understand  and  appreciate,  and  yet,  for 
aught  that  he  knew,  it  was  difficult  in  the  extreme. 

At  first  he  had  a  decided  sense  of  humiliation,  and 
a  consciousness  that  it  was  deserved.  He  had  been 
talking  largely  and  confidently  of  an  art  concerning 
which  he  knew  little,  and  in  which  he  began  to  think 
that  his  listener  was  quite  well  versed. 

But  as  the  thought  of  the  composer  grew  in  power 
and  beauty  he  forgot  himself  and  his  dilemma  in  his 
enjoyment.  Two  senses  were  finding  abundant  gra 
tification  at  the  same  time,  for  it  was  a  delight  to 
listen,  and  it  was  even  a  greater  pleasure  to  look  at 
the  performer. 

She  gave  him  a  quick,  shy  glance  of  observation, 
fearing  somewhat  that  she  might  see  severe  judg 
ment  or  else  cool  indifference  in  the  expression  of 
his  face,  and  she  was  naturally  pleased  and  encour 
aged  when  she  saw,  instead,  undisguised  admira 
tion.  His  previous  manner  had  annoyed  her,  and 
she  determined  to  show  him  that  his  superior  airs 
were  quite  uncalled  for.  Thus  the  diffident  girl  was 
led  to  surpass  herself,  and  infuse  so  much  spirit  and 
grace  into  her  playing  as  to  surprise  even  her  aunt. 

Haldane  was  soon  satisfied  that  she  was  more  than 
pretty — that  she  was  beautiful.  Her  features,  that 
had  seemed  too  thin  and  colorless,  flushed  with  ex 
citement,  and  her  blue  eyes,  which  he  had  thought 
cold  and  expressionless,  kindled  until  they  became 
lustrous.  He  felt,  in  a  way  that  he  could  not  define 
to  himself,  that  her  face  was  full  of  power  and  mind, 
3 


50     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

and  that  she  was  different  from  the  pretty  girls  who 
had  hitherto  been  his  favorites. 

As  she  rose  from  the  piano  he  was  mastered  by 
one  of  those  impulses  which  often  served  him  in  the 
place  of  something  better,  and  he  said  impetuously  : 

"  Miss  Romeyn,  I  beg  your  pardon.  You  know 
a  hundred-fold  more  about  music  than  I  do,  and  I 
have  been  talking  as  if  the  reverse  were  true.  I 
never  heard  any  thing  so  fine  in  my  life,  and  I  also 
confess  that  I  never  heard  that  piece  before." 

The  young  girl  blushed  with  pleasure  on  having 
thus  speedily  vanquished  this  superior  being,  whom 
she  had  been  learning  both  to  dread  and  dislike. 
At  the  same  time  his  frank,  impulsive  words  of  com 
pliment  did  much  to  remove  the  prejudice  which 
she  was  naturally  forming  against  him.  Mrs.  Arnot 
said,  with  her  mellow  laugh,  that  often  accomplished 
more  than  long  homilies  : 

"  That  is  a  manly  speech,  Egbert,  and  much  to 
your  credit.  '  Honest  confession  is  good  for  the 
soul.'  " 

Haldane  did  not  get  on  his  stilts  again  that  even 
ing,  and  before  it  was  over  he  concluded  that  Miss 
Romeyn  was  the  most  charming  young  lady  he  had 
ever  met,  though,  for  some  reason,  she  still  permit 
ted  him  to  do  nearly  all  the  talking.  She  bade  him 
good  night,  however,  with  a  smile  that  was  not  un 
kindly,  and  which  was  interpreted  by  him  as  being' 
singularly  gracious. 

By  this  time  he  had  concluded  that  Miss  Romeyn 
was  a  "  young  lady  par  exc ellence;  "  but  it  has  already 
been  shown  that  his  judgment  in  most  matters  was 


IMMATURE.  5I 

not  to  be  trusted.  Whether  she  was  a  school-girl 
or  a  fully  fledged  young  lady,  a  child  or  a  woman, 
might  have  kept  a  closer  observer  than  himself  much 
longer  in  doubt.  In  truth,  she  was  scarcely  the  one 
or  the  other,  and  had  many  of  the  characteristics  of 
both.  His  opinion  of  her  was  as  incorrect  as  that  of 
himself.  He  was  not  a  man,  though  he  considered 
himself  a  superior  one,  and  had  attained  to  manly 
proportions. 

But  there  "were  wide  differences  in  their  imma 
turity.  She  was  forming  under  the  guidance  of  a 
mother  who  blended  firmness  and  judgment  equally 
with  love.  Gentle  blood  was  in  her  veins,  and  she 
had  inherited  many  of  her  mother's  traits  with  her 
beauty.  Her  parents,  however,  believed  that,  even 
as  the  garden  of  Eden  needed  to  be  "  dressed  and 
kept,"  so  the  nature  of  their  child  required  careful 
pruning,  with  repression  here  and  development  there. 
While  the  young  girl  was  far  from  being  faultless, 
fine  traits  and  tendencies  dominated,  and,  though  as 
yet  undeveloped,  they  were  unfolding  with  the  nat 
uralness  and  beauty  of  a  budding  flower. 

In  Haldane's  case  evil  traits  were  in  the  ascend 
ant,  and  the  best  hope  for  him  was  that  they  as  yet 
had  not  become  confirmed 

"  Who  is  this  Mr.  Haldane,  auntie  ?  "  Laura  asked 
on  reaching  her  room.  There  was  a  slight  trace  of 
vexation  in  her  tone. 

"  He  is  the  son  of  an  old  friend  of  mine.  I  have 
induced  my  husband  to  try  to  give  him  a  business 
education.  You  do  not  like  him." 

"  I  did  not  like  him  at  all  at  first,  but  he  improves 


52     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

a  little  on  acquaintance.  Is  he  a  fair  sample  of  your 
young  mznprotJgfc  f  " 

"  He  is  the  least  promising  of  any  of  them,"  re 
plied  Mrs.  Arnot,  sitting  down  before  the  fire. 
Laura  saw  that  her  face  had  become  shadowed  with 
sadness  and  anxiety. 

"You  look  troubled,  auntie.     Is  he  the  cause?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Are  you  very  much  interested  in  him  ?  " 

"I  am,  Laura;  very  much,  indeed.  I  cannot  bear 
to  give  him  up,  and  yet  I  fear  I  must." 

"Is  he  a  very  interesting  'case?'"  asked  the 
young  girl  in  some  surprise.  u  Mother  often  laugh 
ingly  calls  the  young  men  you  are  trying  to  coax 
to  be  good  by  your  winning  ways,  '  cases.'  I  don't 
know  much  about  young  men,  but  should  suppose 
that  you  had  many  under  treatment  much  more  in 
teresting  than  he  is." 

"  Sister  Fanny  is  always  laughing  at  my  hobby,  and 
saying  that,  since  I  have  no  children  of  my  own,  I  try 
to  adopt  every  young  man  who  will  give  me  a  chance. 
Perhaps  if  I  try  to  carry  out  your  mother's  figure, 
you  will  understand  why  I  am  so  interested  in  this 
'  case.'  If  I  were  a  physician  and  had  charge  of  a 
good  many  patients,  ought  I  not  to  be  chiefly  in 
terested  in  those  which  were  in  the  most  critical  and 
dangerous  condition  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  just  like  you  to  be  so,  auntie,  and  I 
would  not  mind  being  quite  ill  myself  if  I  could 
have  you  to  take  care  of  me.  I  hope  the  young 
men  whom  you  '  adopt '  appreciate  their  privileges." 

"The  trouble  with  most  of  us,  Laura,  is  that  we 


IMMA  TURE.  53 

become  wise  too  late  in  life.  Young  people  are 
often  their  own  worst  enemies,  and  if  you  wish  to  do 
them  good,  you  must  do  it,  as  it  were,  on  the  sly. 
If  one  tries  openly  to  reform  and  guide  them — if  I 
should  say  plainly,  Such  and  such  are  your  faults  ; 
such  and  such  places  and  associations  are  full  of 
danger — they  would  be  angry  or  disgusted,  or  they 
would  say  I  was  blue  and  strait-laced,  and  had  an 
old  woman's  notions  of  what  a  man  should  be.  I 
must  coax  them,  as  you  say  ;  I  must  disguise  my 
medicines,  and  apply  my  remedies  almost  without 
their  knowing  it.  I  also  find  it  true  in  my  practice 
that  tonics  and  good  wholesome  diet  are  better  than 
all  moral  drugs.  It  seems  to  me  that  if  I  can  bring 
around  these  giddy  young  fellows  refining,'  steady 
ing,  purifying  influences,  I  can  do  them  more  good 
than  if  I  lectured  them.  The  latter  is  the  easier 
way,  and  many  take  it.  It  would  require  but  a  few 
minutes  to  tell  this  young  Haldane  what  his  wise 
safe  course  must  be  if  he  would  avoid  shipwreck; 
but  I  can  see  his  face  flush  and  lip  curl  at  my  hom 
ily.  And  yet  for  weeks  I  have  been  angling  for  him, 
and  I  fear  to  no  purpose.  Your  uncle  may  dis 
charge  him  any  day.  It  makes  me  very  sad  to  say 
it,  but  if  he  goes  home  I  think  he  will  also  go  to 
ruin.  Thank  God  for  your  good,  wise  mother, 
Laura.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  be  started  right  in 
life." 

"  Then  this  young  man  has  been  started  wrong?'* 

"  Yes,  wrong  indeed." 

"  Is  he  so  very  bad,  auntie?"  Laura  asked  with  a 
face  full  of  serious  concern. 


54     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Mrs.  Arnot  smiled  as  she  said,  "  If  you  were  a 
young  society  chit,  you  might  think  him  '  very  nice,' 
as  their  slang  goes.  He  is  good-looking  and  rich, 
and  his  inclination  to  be  fast  would  be  a  piquant  fact 
in  his  favor.  He  has  done  things  which  would  seem 
to  you  very  wrong  indeed.  But  he  is  foolish  and  ill- 
trained  rather  than  bad.  He  is  a  spoiled  boy,  and 
spoiled  boys  are  apt  to  become  spoiled  men.  I  have 
told  you  all  this  partly  because,  having  been  your 
mother's  companion  all  your  life,  you  are  so  old- 
fashioned  that  I  can  talk  to  you  almost  as  I  would 
to  sister  Fanny,  and  partly  because  I  like  to  talk 
about  my  hobby." 

A  young  girl  naturally  has  quick  sympathies,  and 
all  the  influences  of  Laura's  life  had  been  gentle 
and  humane.  Her  aunt's  words  speedily  led  her 
to  regard  Haldane  as  an  "  interesting  case,"  a  sort 
of  fever  patient  who  was  approaching  the  crisis  of 
his  disease.  Curling  down  on  the  floor,  and  leaning 
her  arms  on  her  aunt's  lap,  she  looked  up  with  a  face 
full  of  solicitude  as  she  asked  : 

"  And  don't  you  think  you  can  save  him?  Please 
don't  give  up  trying." 

"  I  like  the  expression  of  your  face  now,"  said 
Mrs.  Arnot,  stroking  the  abundant  tresses,  that  were 
falling  loosely  from  the  girl's  head,  "  for  in  it  I  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  divine  image.  Many  think  of  God 
as  looking  down  angrily  and  frowningly  upon  the 
foolish  and  wayward  ;  but  I  see  in  the  solicitude  of 
your  face  a  faint  reflection  of  the  '  Not  willing  that 
any  should  perish '  which  it  ever  seems  to  me  is  the 
expression  of  His." 


IMMATURE,  55 

"  Laura,"  said  she  abruptly,  after  a  moment,  "  did 
any  one  ever  tell  you  that  you  were  growing  up  very 
pretty?" 

"  No,  auntie,"  said  the  girl,  blushing  and  laugh 
ing. 

"  Mr.  Haldane  told  you  so  this  evening." 

"  O  auntie,  you  are  mistaken ;  he  could  not  have 
been  so  rude." 

"  He  did  not  make  a  set  speech  to  that  effect,  my 
dear,  but  he  told  you  so  by  his  eyes  and  manner, 
only  you  are  such  an  innocent  home  body  that  you 
did  not  notice.  But  when  you  go  into  society  you 
will  be  told  this  fact  so  often  that  you  will  be  com 
pelled  to  heed  it,  and  will  soon  learn  the  whole  lan 
guage  of  flattery,  spoken  and  unspoken.  Perhaps  I 
had  better  forewarn  you  a  little,  and  so  forearm  you. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  with  your  beauty?  " 

"  Why,  auntie,  how  funny  you  talk  !  What  should 
I  do  with  it,  granting  that  it  has  any  existence  save 
in  your  fond  eyes  ?  " 

"  Suppose  you  use  it  to  make  men  better,  instead 
of  to  merely  make  them  admire  you.  One  can't  be 
a  belle  very  long  at  best,  and  of  all  the  querulous, 
discontented,  and  disagreeable  people  that  I  have 
met,  superannuated  belles,  who  could  no  longer  ob 
tain  their  revenue  of  flattery,  were  the  worst.  They 
were  impoverished,  indeed.  If  you  do  as  I  suggest, 
you  will  have  much  that  is  pleasant  to  think  about 
when  you  come  to  be  as  old  as  I  am.  Perhaps  you 
can  do  more  for  young  Haldane  than  I  can." 

"  Now,  auntie,  what  can  I  do  ?" 

"  That  which  nearly  all  women  can  do  :  be  kind 


5 6     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

and  winning  ;  make  our  safe,  cozy  parlor  so  attrac 
tive  that  he  will  not  go  out  evenings  to  places  which 
tend  to  destroy  him.  You  feel  an  interest  in  him ; 
show  it.  Ask  him  about  his  business,  and  get  him 
to  explain  it  to  you.  Suggest  that  if  you  were  a 
man  you  would  like  to  master  your  work,  and  be 
come  eminent  in  it.  Show  by  your  manner  and  by 
words,  if  occasion  offers,  that  you  love  and  revere  all 
that  is  sacred,  pure,  and  Christian.  Laura,  innocent 
dove  as  you  are,  you  know  that  many  women  be 
guile  men  to  ruin  with  smiles.  Men  can  be  beguiled 
from  ruin  with  smiles.  Indeed,  I  think  multitudes 
are  permitted  to  go  to  destruction  because  women 
are  so  unattractive,  so  absorbed  in  themselves  and 
their  nerves.  If  mothers  and  wives,  maidens  and 
old  maids,  would  all  commence  playing  the  agree 
able  to  the  men  of  their  household  and  circle,  not 
for  the  sake  of  a  few  compliments,  but  for  the  pur 
pose  of  luring  them  from  evil  and  making  them  bet 
ter,  the  world  would  improve  at  once." 

"  I  see,  auntie,"  said  Laura,  laughing  ;  "  you  wish 
to  administer  me  as  a  sugar-coated  pill  to  your  '  dif 
ficult  case.'  " 

A  deep  sigh  was  the  only  answer,  and,  looking  up, 
Laura  saw  that  her  words  had  not  been  heeded. 
Tears  were  in  her  aunt's  eyes,  and  after  a  moment 
she  said  brokenly : 

"  My  theories  seem  true  enough,  and  yet  how  sig 
nally  I  have  failed  in  carrying  them  out  !  Perhaps 
it  is  my  fault  ;  perhaps  it  is  my  fault ;  but  I've  tried 
— O,  how  I  have  tried  !  Laura,  dear,  you  know 
that  I  am  a  lonely  woman  ;  but  do  not  let  this  pre- 


IMMA  TURE. 


57 


judice  you  against  what  I  have  said.  Good  night, 
dear ;  I  have  kept  you  up  too  long  after  your  jour 
ney." 

Her  niece  understood  her  allusion  to  the  cold,  un 
loving  man  who  sat  alone  every  evening  in  his  dim 
library,  thinking  rarely  of  his  wife,  but  often  of  her 
wealth,  and  how  it  might  increase  his  leverage  in  his 
herculean  labors.  The  young  girl  had  the  tact  to 
reply  only  by  a  warm,  lingering  embrace.  It  was 
an  old  sorrow,  of  which  she  had  long  been  aware ; 
but  it  seemed  without  remedy,  and  was  rarely  touch 
ed  upon. 

3* 


58    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  V. 

PASSION'S  CLAMOR. 

LAURA  had  a  strong  affection  for  her  aunt,  and 
would  naturally  be  inclined  to  gratify  any 
wishes  that  she  might  express,  even  had  they  in 
volved  tasks  uncongenial  and  unattractive.  But  the 
proposal  that  she  should  become  an  ally  in  the  effort 
to  lure  young  Haldane  from  his  evil  associations,  and 
awaken  within  him  pure  and  refined  tastes,  was  de 
cidedly  attractive.  She  was  peculiarly  romantic  in 
her  disposition,  and  no  rude  contact  with  the  com 
mon-place,  common-sense  world  had  chastened  her 
innocent  fancies  by  harsh  and  disagreeable  experi 
ence.  Her  Christian  training  and  girlish  simplicity 
lifted  her  above  the  ordinary  romanticism  of  imagin 
ing  herself  the  heroine  in  every  instance,  and  the 
object  and  end  of  all  masculine  aspirations.  On  this 
occasion  she  simply  desired  to  act  the  part  of  a  hum 
ble  assistant  of  Mrs.  Arnot,  whom  she  regarded  as 
Haldane's  good  angel ;  and  she  was  quite  as  disin 
terested  in  her  hope  for  the  young  man's  moral  im 
provement  as  her  aunt  herself. 

The  task,  moreover,  was  doubly  pleasing  since  she 
could  perform  it  in  a  way  that  was  so  womanly  and 
agreeable.  She  could  scarcely  have  given  Haldane 


PASSION'S  CLAMOR. 


59 


a  plain  talk  on  the  evils  of  fast  living  to  save  her 
life,  but  if  she  could  keep  young  men  from  going  to 
destruction  by  smiling  upon  them,  by  games  of  back 
gammon  and  by  music,  she  felt  in  the  mood  to  be  a 
missionary  all  her  life,  especially  if  she  could  have  so 
safe  and  attractive  a  field  of  labor  as  her  aunt's  back 
parlor. 

But  the  poor  child  would  soon  learn  that  perverse 
human  nature  is  much  the  same  in  a  drawing-room 
and  a  tenement-house,  and  that  all  who  seek  to  im 
prove  it  are  doomed  to  meet  much  that  is  exces 
sively  annoying  and  discouraging. 

The  simple-hearted  girl  no  more  foresaw  what 
might  result  from  her  smiles  than  an  ignorant  child 
would  anticipate  the  consequences  of  fire  falling  on 
grains  of  harmless-looking  black  sand.  She  had 
never  seen  passion  kindling  and  flaming  till  it  seemed 
like  a  scorching  fire,  and  had  not  learned  by  experi 
ence  that  in  some  circumstances  her  smiles  might 
be  like  incendiary  sparks  to  powder. 

In  seeking  to  manage  her  "  difficult  case,"  Mrs. 
Arnot  should  have  foreseen  the  danger  of  employing 
such  a  fascinating  young  creature  as  her  assistant ; 
but  in  these  matters  the  wisest  often  err,  and  only 
comprehend  the  evil  after  it  has  occurred.  Laura 
was  but  a  child  in  years,  having  passed  her  fifteenth 
birthday  but  a  few  months  previous,  and  Haldane 
seemed  to  the  lady  scarcely  more  than  a  boy.  She 
did  not  intend  that  her  niece  should  manifest  any 
thing  more  than  a  little  winning  kindness  and  interest, 
barely  enough  to  keep  the  young  fellow  from  spending 
his  evenings  out  she  knew  not  where.  He  was  at  just 


60     KNIGHT   OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

the  age  when  the  glitter  and  tinsel  of  public  amuse 
ments  are  most  attractive.  She  believed  that  if  she 
could  familiarize  his  mind  with  the  real  gold  and 
clear  diamond  flash  of  pure  home  pleasures,  and 
those  which  are  enjoyed  in  good  society,  he  would 
eventually  become  disgusted  with  gilt,  varnish,  and 
paste.  If  Laura  had  been  a  very  plain  girl,  she 
might  have  seconded  Mrs.  Arnot's  efforts  to  the  ut 
most  without  any  unpleasant  results,  even  if  no  good 
ones  had  followed ;  and  it  may  well  be  doubted 
whether  any  of  the  latter  would  have  ensued.  Hal- 
dane's  disease  was  too  deeply  rooted,  and  his  tastes 
vitiated  to  such  a  degree  that  he  had  lost  the  power 
to  relish  long  the  simple  enjoyments  of  Mrs.  Arnot's 
parlor.  He  already  craved  the  pleasures  which  first 
kindle  and  excite  and  then  consume. 

Laura,  however,  was  not  plain  and  ordinary,  and 
the  smiles  which  were  intended  as  innocent  lures 
from  snares,  instead  of  into  them,  might  make 
trouble  for  all  concerned.  Haldane  was  naturally 
combustible,  to  begin  with,  and  was  now  at  the  most 
inflammable  period  of  his  life. 

The  profoundest  master  of  human  nature  por 
trayed  to  the  world  a  Romeo  and  a  Juliet,  both  mas 
tered  by  a  passion  which  but  a  few  words  and  glances 
had  kindled.  There  are  many  Romeos  who  do  not 
find  their  Juliets  so  sympathetic  and  responsive,  and 
they  usually  develop  at  about. the  age  of  Haldane. 
Indeed,  nearly  all  young  men  of  sanguine  tempera 
ments  go  through  the  Romeo  stage,  and  they  are 
fortunate  if  they  pass  it  without  doing  any  thing 
especially  ridiculous  or  disastrous.  These  sudden 


PASSION'S  CLAMOX.  6l 

attacks  are  exceedingly  absurd  to  older  and  cooler 
friends,  but  to  the  victims  themselves  they  are  tre 
mendously  real  and  tragic  for  the  time  being.  More 
hearts  are  broken  into  indefinite  fragments  before 
twenty  than  ever  after  ;  but,  like  the  broken  bones  of 
the  young,  they  usually  knit  readily  together  again, 
and  are  just  as  good  for  all  practical  purposes. 

There  was  nothing  unusual  in  the  fact,  therefore, 
that  Haldane  was  soon  deeply  enamored  with  his 
new  acquaintance.  It  was  true  that  Laura  had 
given  him  the  mildest  and  most  innocent  kind  of  en 
couragement — and  the  result  would  probably  have 
been  the  same  if  she  had  given  him  none  at  all — but 
his  vanity,  and  what  he  chose  to  regard  as  his  "  un 
dying  love,"  interpreted  all  her  actions,  and  gave 
volumes  of  meaning  to  a  kindly  glance  or  a  pleasant 
word.  Indeed,  before  there  had  been  time  to  carry 
out,  to  any  extent,  the  tactics  her  aunt  had  proposed, 
symptoms  of  his  malady  appeared.  While  she  was 
regarding  him  merely  as  one  of  her  aunt's  "  cases," 
and  a  very  hard  one  at  best,  and  thought  of  herself 
as  trying  to  help  a  little,  as  a  child  might  hold  a 
bandage  or  a  medicine  phial  for  experienced  hands, 
he,  on  the  contrary,  had  begun  to  mutter  to  himself 
that  she  was  "  the  divinest  woman  God  ever  fash 
ioned." 

There  was  now  no  trouble  about  his  spending 
evenings  elsewhere,  and  the  maiden  was  perplexed 
and  annoyed  at  finding  her  winning  ways  far  too 
successful,  and  that  the  one  she  barely  hoped  to 
keep  from  the  vague — and  to  her  mind,  horrible- 
places  of  temptation,  was  becoming  as  adhesive  as 


62     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

sticking-plaster.  If  she  smiled,  he  smiled  and  ogled 
far  too  much  in  return.  If  she  chatted  with  one  and 
another  of  the  young  men  who  found  Mrs.  Arnot's 
parlor  the  most  attractive  place  open  to  them  in  the 
town,  he  would  assume  a  manner  designed  to  be 
darkly  tragical,  but  which  to  the  young  girl  had  more 
the  appearance  of  sulking. 

She  was  not  so  much  of  a  child  as  to  be  unable  to 
comprehend  Haldane's  symptoms,  and  she  was  suffi 
ciently  a  woman  not  to  be  excessively  angry.  And 
yet  she  was  greatly  annoyed  and  perplexed.  At 
times  his  action  seemed  so  absurd  that  she  was  glad 
to  escape  to  her  room,  that  she  might  give  way  to 
her  merriment ;  and  again  he  would  appear  so  much 
in  earnest  that  she  was  quite  as  inclined  to  cry  and 
to  think  seriously  of  bringing  her  visit  to  an  abrupt 
termination. 

While  under  Mrs.  Arnot's  eye  Haldane  was  dis 
tant  and  circumspect,  but  the  moment  he  was  alone' 
with  Laura  his  manner  became  unmistakably  demon 
strative. 

At  first  she  was  disposed  to  tell  her  aunt  all  about 
the  young  man's  sentimental  manner,  but  the  fact 
that  it  seemed  so  ridiculous  deterred  her.  She  still 
regarded  herself  as  a  child,  and  that  any  one  should 
be  seriously  in  love  with  her  after  but  a  few  days' 
acquaintance  seemed  absurdity  itself.  Her  aunt 
might  think  her  very  vain  for  even  imagining  such 
a  thing,  and,  perhaps,  after  all  it  was  only  her  own 
imagination. 

"  Mr.  Haldane  has  acted  queerly  from  the  first," 
she  concluded,  "  and  the  best  thing  I  can  do  is  to 


PASSION'S   CLAMOX.  63 

think  no  more  about  him,  and  let  auntie  manage  her 
4  difficult  case  '  without  me.  If  I  am  to  help  in  these 
matters,  I  had  better  commence  with  a  '  case  '  that  is 
not  so  *  difficult.'  " 

She  therefore  sought  to  avoid  the  young  man, 
and  prove  by  her  manner  that  she  was  utterly  indif 
ferent  to  him,  hoping  that  this  course  would  speedily 
cure  him  of  his  folly.  She  would  venture  into  the 
parlor  only  when  her  aunt  or  guests  were  there,  and 
would  then  try  to  make  herself  generally  agreeable, 
without  an  apparent  thought  for  him. 

While  she  assured  herself  that  she  did  not  like 
him,  and  that  he  was  in  no  respect  a  person  to  be 
admired  and  liked,  she  still  found  herself  thinking 
about  him  quite  often.  He  was  her  first  recognized 
lover.  Indeed,  few  had  found  opportunity  to  give 
more  than  admiring  glances  to  the  little  nun,  who 
thus  far  had  been  secluded  almost  continuously  in 
the  safest  of  all  cloisters — a  country  home.  It  was 
a  decided  novelty  that  a  young  man,  almost  six  feet 
in  height,  should  be  looking  unutterable  things  in 
her  direction  whenever  she  was  present.  She  wished 
he  wouldn't,  but  since  he  would,  she  could  not  help 
thinking  about  him,  and  how  she  could  manage  to 
make  him  "  behave  sensibly." 

She  did  not  maintain  her  air  of  indifference  very 
perfectly,  however,  for  she  had  never  been  schooled 
by  experience,  and  was  acting  solely  on  the  intui 
tions  of  her  sex.  She  could  not  forbear  giving  a 
quick  glance  occasionally  to  see  how  he  was  taking 
his  lesson.  At  times  he  was  scowling  and  angry, 
and  then  she  could  maintain  her  part  without  diffi- 


64     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

culty;  again  he  would  look  so  miserable  that,  out  of 
pity,  she  would  relent  into  a  half  smile,  but  imme 
diately  reproach  herself  for  being  "  so  foolish." 

Haldane's  manner  soon  attracted  Mrs.  Arnot's 
attention,  notwithstanding  his  effort  to  disguise 
from  her  his  feeling  ;  and  a  little  observation  on  the 
part  of  the  experienced  matron  enabled  her  to  guess 
how  matters  stood.  While  Mrs.  Arnot  was  per 
plexed  and  provoked  by  this  new  complication  in 
Haldane's  case,  she  was  too  kindly  in  her  nature  not 
to  feel  sorry  for  him.  She  was  also  so  well  versed 
in  human  nature  as  to  be  aware  that  she  could  not 
sit  down  and  coolly  talk  him  out  of  his  folly. 

Besides  it  was  not  necessarily  folly.  The  youth 
was  but  following  a  law  of  nature,  and  following  it, 
too,  in  much  the  same  manner  as  had  his. fathers 
before  him  since  the  beginning  of  time.  There  would 
not  be  any  thing  essentially  wrong  in  an  attachment 
between  these  young  people,  if  it  sprang  up  natur 
ally  ;  only  it  would  be  necessary  to  impress  upon 
them  the  fact  that  they  were  young,  and  that  for 
years  to  come  their  minds  should  be  largely  occupied 
with  other  matters.  Haldane  certainly  would  not 
havp  been  her  choice  for  Laura,  but  if  a  strong  at 
tachment  became  the  means  of  steadying  him  and 
of  inciting  to  the  formation  of  a  fine  character,  all 
might  be  well  in  the  end.  She  was  morbidly  anxious, 
however,  that  her  niece  should  not  meet  with  any 
such  disappointment  in  life  as  had  fallen  to  her  lot, 
and  should  the  current  of  the  young  girl's  affec 
tion  tend  steadily  in  his  direction  she  would  deeply 
regret  the  fact. 


PASSION'S  CLAMOK.  65 

She  would  regret  exceedingly,  also,  to  have  the 
young  girl's  mind  occupied  by  thoughts  of  such  a 
nature  for  years  to  come.  Her  education  was  unfin 
ished  ;  she  was  very  immature,  and  should  not  make 
so  important  a  choice  until  she  had  seen  considerable 
of  society,  and  time  had  been  given  for  the  formation 
of  her  tastes  and  character. 

Mrs.  Arnot  soon  concluded  that  it  would  be  wiser 
to  prevent  trouble  than  to  remedy  it,  and  that 
Laura  had  better  return  speedily  to  the  safe  asylum 
of  her  own  home.  She  could  then  suggest  to  Hal- 
dane  that  if  he  hoped  to  win  the  maiden  in  after 
years  he  must  form  a  character  worthy  of  her. 

Had  she  carried  out  her  plan  that  day  all  might 
have  turned  out  differently,  but  the  advanced  in  life 
are  prone  to  forget  the  impetuosity  of  youth.  Hal- 
dane  was  already  ripe  for  a  declaration,  or,  more 
properly,  an  explosion  of  his  pent-up  feelings,  and 
was  only  awaiting  an  opportunity  to  insist  upon  his 
own  acceptance.  He  was  so  possessed  and  absorbed 
by  his  emotions  that  he  felt  sure  they  would  sweep 
away  all  obstacles.  He  imagined  himself  pleading  his 
cause  in  a  way  that  would  melt  a  marble  heart ;  and 
both  vanity  and  hope  had  whispered  that  Laura  was 
a  shy  maiden,  secretly  responsive  to  his  passion,  and 
only  awaiting  his  frank  avowal  before  showing  her 
own  heart.  Else  why  had  she  been  so  kind  at  first  ? 
Having  won  his  love,  was  she  not  seeking  now  to 
goad  him  on  to  its  utterance  by  a  sudden  change 
of  manner? 

Thus  he  reasoned,  as  have  many  others  equally 
blind. 


66     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

On  becoming  aware  of  Haldane's  passion,  Mrs. 
Arnot  resolved  to  sedulously  guard  her  niece,  and 
prevent  any  premature  and  disagreeable  scenes.  She 
was  not  long  in  discovering  that  the  feeling,  as  yet, 
was  all  on  the  young  man's  side,  and  believed  that 
by  a  little  adroitness  she  could  manage  the  affair  so 
that  no  harm  would  result  to  either  party. 

But  on  the  day  following  the  one  during  which 
she  had  arrived  at  the  above  conclusions  she  felt 
quite  indisposed,  and  while  at  dinner  was  obliged  to 
succumb  to  one  of  her  nervous  headaches.  Before 
retiring  to  her  private  room  she  directed  the  waitress 
to  say  to  such  of  her  young  friends  as  might  call  that 
she  was  too  ill  to  see  them. 

Haldane's  expressions  of  sympathy  were  hollow, 
indeed,  for  he  hoped  that,  as  a  result  of  her  indispo 
sition,  he  would  have  Laura  all  to  himself  that  even 
ing.  With  an  insinuating  smile  he  said  to  the  young 
girl,  after  her  aunt  had  left  the  table, 

"  I  shall  expect  you  to  be  very  agreeable  this 
evening,  to  compensate  me  for  Mrs.  Arnot's  ab 
sence." 

Laura  blushed  vividly,  and  was  provoked  with 
herself  that  she  did  so,  but  she  replied  quietly, 

"  You  must  excuse  me  this  evening,  Mr.  Haldane  ; 
I  am  sure  my  aunt  will  need  me." 

His  smile  was  succeeded  by  a  sudden  frown ;  but, 
as  Mr.  Arnot  was  at  the  table,  he  said,  with  assumed 
carelessness, 

"  Then  I  will  go  out  and  try  to  find  amusement 
elsewhere." 

"  It  might  be  well,  young  man,"  said  Mr.  Arnot 


PASSION'S  CLAMOR.  67 

austerely,  "  to  seek  for  something  else  than  amuse 
ment.  When  I  was  at  your  age  I  so  invested  my 
evenings  that  they  now  tell  in  my  business." 

"  I  am  willing  to  invest  this  evening  in  a  way  to 
make  it  tell  upon  my  future,"  replied  Haldane,  with 
a  meaning  glance  at  Laura. 

Mr.  Arnot  observed  this  glance  and  the  blushing 
face  of  his  niece,  and  drew  his  own  conclusions  ;  but 
he  only  said  dryly, 

"  That  remark  is  about  as  inexplicable  as  some  of 
your  performances  at  the  office  of  late." 

Laura  soon  after  excused  herself  and  sought  a  re 
fuge  in  her  aunt's  room,  which,  being  darkened,  pre 
vented  the  lady  from  seeing  her  burning  cheeks  and 
general  air  of  vexation  and  disquiet.  Were  it  not 
for  Mrs.  Arnot's  suffering  condition  and  need  of  rest, 
Laura  would  then  have  told  her  of  her  trouble  and 
asked  permission  to  return  home,  and  she  deter 
mined  to  do  this  at  the  first  opportunity.  Now, 
however,  she  unselfishly  forgot  herself  in  her  effort 
to  alleviate  her  aunt's  distress.  With  a  strong  sense 
of  relief  she  heard  Haldane  go  out,  slamming  the 
front  door  after  him. 

"  Was  there  ever  such  an  absurd  fellow  !  "  thought 
she  ;  "  he  has  made  himself  disagreeable  ever  since 
I  came,  with  his  superior  airs,  as  if  he  knew  every 
thing,  when,  in  fact,  he  doesn't  know  any  thing  well, 
not  even  good  manners.  He  acts  as  if  I  belonged 
to  him  and  had  no  right  to  any  will  or  wishes  of  my 
own.  If  he  can't  take  the  hints  that  I  have  given 
he  must  be  as  stupid  and  blind  as  an  owl.  In  spite 
of  all  that  I  can  do  or  say  he  seems  to  think  that  I 


68    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

only  want  an  opportunity  to  show  the  same  ridicu 
lous  feeling  that  makes  him  appear  like  a  simpleton. 
If  I  were  a  young  lady  in  society  I  should  detest  a 
man  who  took  it  for  granted  that  I  would  fall  in 
love  with  him." 

With  like  indignant  musings  she  beguiled  the 
time,  wondering  occasionally  why  her  aunt  did  not 
ask  her  to  go  down  and  entertain  the  object  of  her 
dread,  but  secretly  thankful  that  she  did  not. 

At  last  Mrs.  Arnot  said : 

"  Mr.  Haldane  went  out,  did  he  not  ?" 

"  Yes,  auntie,  some  time  ago." 

"  I  left  my  other  bottle  of  smelling-salts  in  the 
parlor.  I  think  it  is  stronger  than  this.  Would 
you  mind  getting  it  for  me  ?  It's  on  the  man 
tel." 

Laura  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  it  in  the  some 
what  dimly-lighted  drawing-room,  but  as  she  turned 
to  leave  the  apartment  she  saw  Haldane  between 
her  and  the  door. 

Before  he  had  reached  any  of  his  garish  haunts  he 
had  felt  such  an  utter  distaste  for  them  in  his  pres 
ent  mood  that  he  returned.  He  was  conscious  of 
the  impulse  merely  to  be  near  the  object  of  his 
thoughts,  and  also  hoped  that  by  some  fortunate 
chance  he  might  still  be  able  to  find  her  alone. 
That  his  return  might  be  unnoted,  he  had  quietly 
entered  a  side  door,  and  was  waiting  and  watching 
for  just  such  an  opportunity  as  Mrs.  Arnot  had  unwit 
tingly  occasioned. 

Laura  tried  to  brush  past,  but  he  intercepted  her, 
and  said : 


PASSION'S  CLAMOR.  69 

"  No,  Miss  Laura,  not  till  you  hear  me.  You 
have  my  destiny  in  your  hands." 

"  I  haven't  any  thing  of  the  kind,"  she  answered, 
in  tones  of  strong  vexation.  Guided  by  instinct, 
she  resolved  to  be  as  prosaic  and  matter-of-fact  as 
possible  ;  so  she  added  :  "  I  have  only  aunt's  smell 
ing-salts  in  my  hands,  and  she  needs  them." 

"  I  need  you  far  more  than  Mrs.  Arnot  needs  her 
smelling-salts,"  he  said  tragically. 

"  Mr.  Haldane,  such  talk  is  very  absurd,"  she  re 
plied,  half  ready  to  cry  from  nervousness  and  annoy 
ance. 

"  It  is  not  absurd.  How  can  you  trifle  with  the 
deepest  and  holiest  feelings  that  a  man — of  which 
a  man — feels?"  he  retorted  passionately,  and  grow 
ing  a  little  incoherent. 

"  I  don't  know  any  thing  about  such  feelings,  and 
therefore  cannot  trifle  with  them." 

"  What  did  your  blushes  mean  this  evening?  You 
cannot  deceive  me;  I  have  seen  the  world  and  know  it." 

"  I  am  not  the  world.  I  am  only  a  school-girl, 
and  if  you  had  good  sense  you  would  not  talk  so  to 
me.  You  appear  to  think  that  I  must  feel  and  do 
as  you  wish.  What  right  have  you  to  act  so  ?  " 

"  The  truest  and  strongest  right.  You  know  well 
that  I  love  you  with  my  whole  soul.  I  have  given 
you  my  heart — all  there  is  of  me.  Have  I  not  a 
right  to  ask  your  love  in  return  ?  " 

Laura  was  conscious  of  a  strange  thrill  as  she 
heard  these  passionate  words,  for  they  appeared  to 
echo  in  a  depth  of  her  nature  of  which  she  had  not 
been  conscious  before. 


70     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

The  strong  and  undoubting  assurance  which  pos 
sessed  him  carried  for  a  moment  a  strange  mastery 
over  her  mind.  As  he  so  vehemently  asserted  the 
only  claim  which  a  man  can  urge,  her  woman's 
soul  trembled,  and  for  a  moment  she  felt  almost 
powerless  to  resist.  His  unreserved  giving  appeared 
to  require  that  he  should  receive  also.  She  would 
have  soon  realized,  however,  that  Haldane's  attitude 
was  essentially  that  of  an  Oriental  lover,  who,  in  his 
strongest  attachments,  is  ever  prone  to  maintain 
the  imperative  mood,  and  to  consult  his  own  heart 
rather  than  that  of  the  woman  he  loves.  While  in 
Laura's  nature,  there  was  unusual  gentleness  and  a 
tendency  to  respect  and  admire  virile  force,  she  was 
too  highly  bred  in  our  Western  civilization  not  to 
resent  as  an  insult  any  such  manifestation  of  this  force 
as  would  make  the  quest  of  her  love  a  demand  rather 
than  a  suit,  after  once  recognizing  such  a  spirit. 
She  was  now  confused  however,  and  after  an  awk 
ward  moment  said, 

l<  I  have  not  asked  or  wished  you  to  give  me  so 
much.  I  don't  think  you  realize  what  you  are  say 
ing.  If  you  would  only  remember  that  I  am  scarcely 
more  than  a  child  you  would  not  talk  so  foolishly. 
Please  let  me  goto  my  aunt." 

"No,  not  till  you  give  me  some  hope.  Your 
blushes  prove  that  you  are  a  woman." 

"  They  prove  that  I  am  excessively  annoyed  and 
vexed." 

"  O,  Laura,  after  raising  so  many  hopes  you  can 
not — you  cannot — " 

"  I  haven't  meant  to  raise  any  hopes." 


PASSION'S  CLAMOR.  71 

"  Why  were  you  so  kind  to  me  at  first  ?  " 

"  Well,  if  you  must  know,  my  aunt  wished  me  to 
be.  If  I  had  dreamed  you  would  act  so  I  would  not 
have  spoken  to  you." 

"  What  motive  could  Mrs.  Arnot  have  had  for 
such  a  request  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you,  and  when  you  know  the  whole 
truth  you  will  see  how  mistaken  you  are,  and  how 
greatly  you  wrong  me.  Aunt  wanted  me  to  help  her 
keep  you  home  evenings,  and  away  from  all  sorts 
of  horrid  places  to  which  you  were  fond  of  going." 

These  words  gave  Haldane  a  cue  which  he  at  once 
followed,  and  he  said  eagerly  ; 

"  If  you  will  be  my  wife,  I  will  do  any  thing  you 
wish.  I  will  make  myself  good,  great,  and  renown 
ed  for  your  sake.  Your  smiles  will  keep  me  from 
every  temptation.  But  I  warn  you  that  if  you  cast  me 
off — if  you  trifle  with  me — I  shall  become  a  reckless 
man.  I  shall  be  ruined.  My  only  impulse  will  be 
self-destruction." 

Laura  was  now  thoroughly  incensed,  and  she  said 
indignantly  : 

"  Mr.  Haldane,  I  should  think  you  would  be 
ashamed  to  talk  in  that  manner.  It's  the  same  as  if 
a  spoiled  boy  should  say:  If  you  don't  give  me  what 
I  wish,  right  or  wrong,  I  will  do  something  dreadful. 
If  I  ever  do  love  a  man,  it  will  be  one  that  I  can 
look  up  to  and  respect,  and  not  one  who  must  be 
coaxed  and  bribed  to  give  up  disgusting  vices.  If 
you  do  not  open  that  door  I  will  call  uncle." 

The  door  opened,  and  Mr.  Arnot  entered  with  a 
heavy  frown  upon  his  brow. 


72     KNIGHT  OF   THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  GLOOMY  GRANDEUR." 

MR.  ARNOT'S  library  was  on  the  side  of  the 
hall  opposite  to  the  drawing-room.  Though 
he  had  been  deeply  intent  upon  his  writing,  he  at  last 
became  conscious  that  there  were  some  persons  in 
the  parlor  who  were  talking  in  an  unusual  manner, 
and  he  soon  distinguished  the  voice  of  his  niece. 
Haldane's  words,  manner,  and  glances  at  the  dinner 
table  at  once  recurred  to  him,  and  stepping  silently 
to  the  drawing-room  door,  he  heard  the  latter  part 
of  the  colloquy  narrated  in  the  previous  chapter. 
He  was  both  amused  and  angry,  and  while  relieved 
to  find  that  his  niece  was  indulging  in  no  "  senti 
mental  nonsense,"  he  had  not  a  particle  of  sympa 
thy  or  charity  for  Haldane,  and  he  determined  to 
give  the  young  man  a  "  lesson  that  would  not  soon  be 
forgotten." 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ridiculous  scene?  " 
he  demanded  sternly.  "  What  have  you  been  say 
ing  to  this  child?" 

Haldane  at  first  had  been  much  abashed  by  the 
entrance  of  his  employer ;  but  his  tone  and  manner 
stung  the  young  fellow  into  instant  anger,  and  he  re 
plied  haughtily : 


GLOOMY  GRANDEUR. 


73 


"  She  is  not  a  child,  and  what  I  have  said  con 
cerns  Miss  Romeyn  only." 

"  Ah !  inded!  I  have  no  right  to  protect  my  niece 
in  my  own  house  !  " 

"  My  intentions  toward  Miss  Romeyn  are  entirely 
honorable,  and  there  is  no  occasion  for  protection." 

Reassured  by  her  uncle's  presence,  Laura's  ner 
vous  apprehension  began  to  give  place  to  something 
like  pity  for  the  youth,  who  had  assumed  an  atti 
tude  befitting  high  tragedy,  and  toward  whom  she 
felt  that  she  had  been  a  little  harsh.  Now  that  he  was 
confronted  by  one  who  was  disposed  to  be  still  more 
harsh,  womanlike,  she  was  inclined  to  take  his  part. 
She  would  be  sorry  to  have  him  come  to  an  open 
rupture  with  his  employer  on  her  account,  so  she 
said  eagerly, 

"  Please,  uncle,  do  me  the  favor  of  letting  the  whole 
matter  drop.  Mr.  Haldane  has  seen  his  mistake  by 
this  time.  I  am  going  home  to-morrow,  and  the  af 
fair  is  too  absurd  to  make  any  one  any  more  trouble." 

Before  he  could  answer,  Mrs.  Arnot,  hearing  theii 
voices,  and  surmising  the  trouble  which  she  had 
hoped  to  prevent,  now  appeared  also,  and  by  her 
good  sense  and  tact  brought  the  disagreeable  scene 
to  a  speedy  close. 

"  Laura,  my  dear,"  she  said  quietly,  "  go  up  to 
my  room,  and  I  will  join  you  there  soon."  The 
young  girl  gladly  obeyed. 

There  were  times  when  Mrs.  Arnot  controlled  her 

strong-willed    husband    in   a   manner    that   seemed 

scarcely  to  be  reconciled  with  his  dictatorial  habits. 

This  fact  might  be  explained  in  part  by  her  wealth, 

4 


74     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

of  which  he  had  the  use,  but  which  she  still  controlled, 
but  more  truly  by  her  innate  superiority,  which  ever 
gives  supremacy  to  the  nobler  and  stronger  mind 
when  aroused. 

Mr.  Arnot  had  become  suddenly  and  vindictively 
angry  with  his  clerk,  who,  instead  of  being  over 
whelmed  with  awe  and  shame  at  his  unexpected  ap 
pearance,  was  haughty  and  even  defiant.  One  of 
the  strongest  impulses  of  this  man  was  to  crush  out 
of  those  in  his  employ  a  spirit  of  independence  and 
individual  self-assertion.  The  idea  of  a  part  of  his 
business  machinery  making  such  a  jarring  tumult  in 
his  own  house  !  He  proposed  to  instantly  cast  away 
the  cause  of  friction,  and  insert  a  more  stolid  human 
cog-wheel  in  Haldane's  place. 

But  when  his  wife  said,  in  a  tone  which  she  rarely 
used, 

"  Mr.  Arnot,  before  any  thing  further  is  said  upon 
this  matter,  I  would  like  to  see  you  in  your  library" 
— he  followed  her  without  a  word. 

Before  the  library  door  closed,  however,  he  could 
not  forbear  snarling, 

"  I  told  you  that  your  having  this  big  spoiled  boy 
as  an  inmate  of  the  house  would  not  work  well." 

"  He  has  been  offering  himself  to  Laura,  has  he 
not  ?  "  she  said  quietly. 

"  I  suppose  that  is  the  way  in  which  you  would 
explain  his  absurd,  maudlin  words.  A  pitiful  offer  it 
was,  which  she,  like  a  sensible  girl,  declined  without 
thanks." 

"  What  course  do  you  propose  to  take  toward 
Haldane?" 


GLOOMY  GRANDEUR. 


75 


"  I  was  on  the  point  of  sending  him  home  to  his 
mother,  and  of  suggesting  that  he  remain  with  her 
till  he  becomes  something  more  than  a  fast,  foolish 
boy.  As  yet  I  see  no  reason  for  acting  differently." 

"  On  just  what  grounds  do  you  propose  to  dis 
charge  him?  " 

"  Has  he  not  given  sufficient  cause  this  evening  in 
his  persecution  of  Laura  and  his  impudence  to  me  ?  " 

"  Thomas,  you  forget  that  while  young  Haldane 
is  your  clerk,  he  enjoys  a  social  position  quite  equal 
to  that  which  a  son  of  ours  would  possess,  did  we 
have  one.  Though  his  course  toward  Laura  has 
been  crude  and  boyish,  I  have  yet  to  learn  that  there 
has  been  any  thing  dishonorable.  Laura  is  to  us  a 
child  ;  to  him  she  seems  a  very  pretty  and  attractive 
girl,  and  his  sudden  passion  for  her  is,  perhaps,  one  of 
the  most  natural  things  in  the  world.  Besides,  an  af 
fair  of  this  kind  should  be  managed  quietly  and  wise 
ly,  and  not  with  answering  passion.  You  are  angry 
now  ;  you  will  see  that  I  am  right  in  the  morning. 
At  all  events,  the  name  of  this  innocent  girl,  my 
sister's  child,  must  not  be  bandied  about  in  the  gossip 
of  the  town.  Among  young  men  Haldane  passes 
for  a  young  man.  Do  you  wish  to  have  it  the  town 
talk  that  he  has  been  discharged  because  he  ven 
tured  to  compliment  your  niece  with  the  offer  of  his 
hand  ?  That  he  has  been  premature  and  rash  is 
chiefly  the  fault  of  his  years  and  temperament ;  but 
no  serious  trouble  need  follow  unless  we  make  it 
ourselves.  Laura  will  return  home  in  a  day  or  two, 
and  if  the  young  fellow  is  dealt  with  wisely  and 
kindly,  this  episode  may  do  much  toward  making  a 


76     ANIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

sensible  man  of  him.  If  you  abruptly  discharge  him, 
people  will  imagine  tenfold  more  than  has  occurred, 
and  they  may  surmise  positive  evil." 

"Well,  well,  have  it  your  own  way,"  said  her  hus 
band  impatiently.  "  Of  course,  I  do  not  wish  that 
Laura  should  become  the  theme  of  scandal.  But  as 
for  this  young  firebrand  of  a  Haldane,  there  must  be 
a  decided  change  in  him.  I  cannot  bother  with  him 
much  longer." 

"  I  think  I  can  manage  him.  At  any  rate,  please 
make  no  change  that  can  seem  connected  with  this 
affair.  If  you  would  also  exercise  a  little  kindness 
and  forbearance,  I  do  not  think  you  would  ever  have 
cause  to  regret  it." 

"  My  office  is  not  an  asylum  for  incapables,  love 
sick  swains,  and  fast  boys.  It's  a  place  of  business, 
and  if  young  Haldane  can't  realize  this,  there  are 
plenty  who  can." 

"  As  a  favor  to  me,  I  will  ask  you  to  bear  with 
him  as  long  as  possible.  Can  you  not  send  him  to 
your  factory  near  New  York  on  some  errand  ?  New 
scenes  will  divert  his  thoughts,  and  sudden  and  acute 
attacks,  like  his,  usually  do  not  last  very  long." 

"  Well,  well,  I'll  see." 

Mrs.  Arnot  returned  to  the  parlor,  but  Haldane 
was  no  longer  there.  She  went  to  his  room,  but, 
though  he  was  within,  she  could  obtain  no  response 
to  her  knocking,  or  to  the  kind  tone  in  which  she 
spoke  his  name.  She  sighed,  but  thought  that  per 
haps  he  would  be  calmer  and  more  open  to  reason 
on  the  morrow,  and,  therefore,  returned  to  her  own 
apartment.  Indeed,  she  was  glad  to  do  so,  for  in 


GLOOMY  GRANDEUR. 


77 


her  ill  and  suffering  condition  the  strain  had  already 
been  too  great. 

She  found  Laura  tearful  and  troubled,  and  could 
not  do  less  than  listen  to  her  story. 

"  Do  you  think  I  have  done  any  thing  wrong, 
auntie?  "  asked  the  girl  in  deep  anxiety. 

"  No,  dear,  I  thinkryou  have  acted  very  sensibly. 
I  wish  I  could  have.foreseenithe  trouble  sooner,  and 
saved  you  both  front  a  disagreeable  experience." 

"  But  uncle  won't  discharge  Mr.  Haldane  on  my 
account,  will  he  ?  "  she  continued  with  almost  equal 
solicitude. 

"  Certainly  not.  Egbert  has  not  done  any  thing 
that  should  cause  his  dismissal.  I  think  that  the 
only  result  will  be  to  teach  you  both  that  these  are 
matters  which  should  be  left  to  future  years." 

"  I'm  glad  they  are  distant,  for  I  had  no  idea  that 
love  affairs  were  so  intensely  disagreeable." 

Her  aunt  smiled,  and  after  a  little  time  the  young 
girl  departed  to  her  rest  quite  comforted  and  reas 
sured. 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Arnot  was  too  ill  to  ap 
pear  at  breakfast,  and  her  niece  would  not  venture 
down  alone.  Haldane  and  his  employer  sat  down  to 
gether  in  grim  silence,  and,  after  a  cup  of  coffee  only, 
the  former  abruptly  excused  himself  and  went  to  the 
office. 

As  might  have  been  expected,  the  young  man  had 
passed  a  restless  night,  during  which  all  sorts  of  rash, 
wild  purposes  surged  through  his  mind.  At  first  he 
meditated  hiding  his  grief  and  humiliation  in  some 
"  far  distan-t  clime;"  but  the  thought  occurred  to 


7 8    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

him  after  a  little  time  that  this  would  be  spiting  him 
self  more  than  any  one  else.  His  next  impulse  was 
to  leave  the  house  of  his  "  insulting  employer"  for 
ever  ;  but  as  he  was  about  to  depart,  he  remembered 
that  he  happened  to  have  scarcely  a  dollar  in  his 
pocket,  and  therefore  concluded  to  wait  till  he  had 
drawn  his  pay,  or  could  write  to  his  mothKr  for 
funds.  Then,  as  his  anger  subsided,  a  sense  of  loss 
and  disappointment  overwhelmed  him,  and  for  along 
time  he  sobbed  like  a  broken-hearted  child.  After 
this  natural  expression  of  grief  he  felt  better,  and 
became  able  to  think  connectedly.  He  finally  re 
solved  that  he  would  become  "  famous,"  and  rise  in 
"  gloomy  grandeur  "  till  he  towered  far  above  his 
fellow  men.  He  would  pierce  this  obdurate  maid 
en's  heart  with  poignant  but  unavailing  regret  that 
she  had  missed  the  one  great  opportunity  of  her  life. 
He  gave  but  slight  and  vague  consideration  to  the 
methods  by  which  he  would  achieve  the  renown 
which  would  overshadow  Laura's  life ;  but,  having 
resolutely  adopted  the  purpose  with  a  few  tragic 
gestures  and  some  obscure  fragmentary  utterances, 
he  felt  consoled  and  was  able  to  obtain  a  little  sleep. 
The  routine  duties  at  the  office  on  the  following 
day  did  not  promise  very  much,  but  he  went  through 
them  in  a  kind  of  grim,  vindictive  manner,  as  if  re 
solving  to  set  his  foot  on  all  obstacles.  He  would 
11  suffer  in  silence  and  give  no  sign  "  till  the  hour 
came  when  he  could  flash  out  upon  the  world. 
But  as  the  day  declined,  he  found  the  rdle  of  "  gloomy 
grandeur  "  rather  heavy,  and  he  became  conscious 
of  the  fact  that  he  had  scarcely  eaten  any  thing  for 


GLOOMY  GRANDEUR.  79 

nearly  twenty-four  hours.  Another  impulse  began 
to  make  itself  felt— that  of  fulfilling  his  threat  and 
torturing  Miss  Romeyn  by  going  to  ruin.  With  al 
luring  seductiveness  the  thought  insinuated  itself 
into  his  mind  that  one  of  the  first  steps  in  the  trage 
dy  might  be  a  game  and  wine  supper,  and  his  grow 
ing  hunger  made  this  mode  of  revenge  more  attrac 
tive  than  cold  and  austere  ambition. 

But  Laura's  words  concerning  "  disgusting  vices  " 
recurred  to  him  with  all  and  more  than  their  first 
stinging  plainness,  and  he  put  the  impulse  away 
with  a  gesture  and  tragic  expression  of  face  that 
struck  a  sere  and  withered  book-keeper,  who  hap 
pened  at  that  moment  to  look  up,  as  so  queer 
that  he  feared  the  young  man  was  becoming  de 
mented. 

Haldane  concluded  —  and  with  some  reason  in 
view  of  Laura's  romantic  nature — that  only  a  ca 
reer  of  gloomy  grandeur  and  high  renown  would  im 
press  the  maiden  whom  yesterday  he  proposed  to 
make  happy  forever,  but  to-day  to  blight  with  regret 
like  a  "  worm  i'  the  bud."  He  already  had  a  vague 
presentiment  that  such  a  role  would  often  mortify 
his  tastes  and  inclinations  most  dismally ;  and  yet, 
what  had  he  henceforth  to  do  with  pleasure?  But 
if,  after  he  had  practiced  the  austerity  of  an  ancho 
rite,  she  should  forget  him,  marry  another,  and  be 
happy !  the  thought  was  excruciating.  O,  that 
awful  "  another  "  !  He  is  the  fiend  that  drags  disap 
pointed  lovers  down  to  the  lowest  depth  of  their 
'tortures.  If  Laura  had  had  a  previous  favorite, 
Haldane  would  have  been  most  happy  to  have  her 


80    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

meet  "another"  in  himself;  but  now  this  vague  but 
surely  coming  rival  of  the  future  sent  alternately 
cold  chills  and  molten  fire  through  his  veins. 

He  was  awakened  from  such  painful  reveries  by  a 
summons  to  his  employer's  private  office. 


BIRDS  OF  PREY.  8 1 


CHAPTER  VII. 

BIRDS   OF   PREY. 

MR.  ARNOT  in  his  widely  extended  business 
owned  several  factories,  and  in  the  vicinity 
of  one,  located  at  a  suburb  of  New  York,  there  were 
no  banking  facilities.  It  was,  therefore,  his  custom 
at  stated  times  to  draw  from  his  bank  at  Hillaton 
such  amounts  in  currency  as  v/ere  needed  to  pay 
those  in  his  employ  at  the  place  indicated,  and  send 
the  money  thither  by  one  of  his  clerks.  Upon  the 
present  occasion,  in  compliance  with  his  wife's  re 
quest,  he  decided  to  send  Haldane.  He  had  no 
hesitation  in  doing  this,  as  the  errand  was  one  that 
required  nothing  more  than  honesty  and  a  little 
prudence. 

"Mr.  Haldane,"  said  his  employer,  in  tones  some 
what  less  cold  and  formal  than  those  habitual  with 
him,  "  we  will  let  bygones  be  bygones.  I  am  in 
clined  to  think  that  hereafter  you  will  be  disposed 
to  give  your  thoughts  more  fully  to  business,  as  a 
man  should  who  proposes  to  amount  to  any  thing 
in  the  world.  In  these  envelopes  are  one  thousand 
dollars  in  currency.  I  wish  you  to  place  them  se 
curely  in  your  breast-pockets,  and  take  the  five- 
thirty  train  to  New  York,  and  from  thence  early  to- 
4 


82     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

morrow  go  out  on  the  Long  Island  road  to  a  little 
station  called  Arnotville,  and  give  these  packages  to 
Mr.  Black,  the  agent  in  charge  of  my  factory  there. 
Take  his  receipt,  and  report  to  me  to-morrow  even 
ing.  With  that  amount  of  money  upon  your  per 
son  you  will  perceive  the  necessity  of  prudence  and 
care.  Here  is  a  check  paying  your  salary  for  the 
past  month.  The  cashier  will  give  you  currency  for  it. 
Report  your  expenses  on  your  return,  and  they  will 
be  paid.  As  the  time  is  limited,  perhaps  you  can  get 
some  lunch  at  or  near  the  depot." 

11  I  prefer  to  do  so,"  said  Haldane,  promptly,  "  and 
will  try  to  perform  the  business  to  your  satisfaction." 

Mr.  Arnot  nodded  a  cool  dismissal,  and  Haldane 
started  for  a  hotel-restaurant  near  the  depot  with  a 
step  entirely  too  quick  and  elastic  fqr  one  who  must 
walk  henceforth  in  the  shadow  of  "  bitter  memories 
and  dark  disappointment."  The  exercise  brought 
color  to  his  cheek,  and  there  certainly  was  a  sparkle 
in  his  dark  eyes.  It  could  not  be  hope,  for  he  had 
assured  himself  again  and  again  that  "  hope  was  dead 
in  his  heart."  It  might  have  been  caused  after  his 
long  fast  by  the  anticipation  of  a  lunch  at  the  depot 
and  a  petit  soupcr  in  the  city,  and  the  thought  of 
washing  both  down  with  a  glass  of  wine,  or  possibly 
with  several.  The  relish  and  complacency  with  which 
his  mind  dwelt  on  this  prospect  struck  Haldane  as 
rather  incongruous  in  a  being  as  blighted  as  he  sup 
posed  himself  to  be.  With  his  youth,  health,  and 
unusually  good  digestion  he  would  find  no  little 
difficulty  in  carrying  out  the  "gloomy  grandeur" 
scheme,  and  he  began  to  grow  conscious  of  the  fact. 


BIRDS  OF  PREY.  83 

Indeed,  in  response  to  a  law  of  nature,  he  was 
already  inclined  to  react  from  his  unwonted  depres 
sion  into  reckless  hilarity.  Impulse  and  inclination 
were  his  controlling  forces,  and  he  was  accustomed  to 
give  himself  up  to  them  without  much  effort  at  self- 
restraint.  And  yet  he  sought  to  imagine  himself  con 
sistent,  so  that  he  could  maintain  his  self-approval. 

"  I  will  hide  my  despair  with  laughter,"  he  mut 
tered  ;  "  the  world  cannot  know  that  it  is  hollow,  and 
but  a  mask  against  its  vulgar  curiosity." 

A  good  cold  lunch  and  a  cup  of  coffee — which  he 
could  have  obtained  at  once  at  the  hotel  near  the 
depot — would  not  answer  for  this  victim  of  despair. 
Some  extra  delicacies,  which  required  time  for  prep 
aration,  were  ordered.  In  the  meantime  he  went 
to  the  bar  for  an  "  appetizer,"  as  he  termed  it.  Here 
he  met  an  acquaintance  among  the  loungers  present, 
and,  of  course,  asked  him  to  take  a  social  glass  also. 
This  personage  complied  in  a  manner  peculiarly  feli 
citous,  and  in  such  a  way  as  to  give  the  impression 
that  his  acceptance  of  the  courtesy  was  a  compli 
ment  to  Haldane.  Much  practice  had  made  him 
perfect  in  this  art,  and  the  number  of  drinks  that  he 
was  able  to  secure  gratis  in  the  course  of  a  year  by 
being  always  on  hand  and  by  maintaining  an  air  of 
slight  superiority,  combined  with  an  appearance  of 
bonhomie  and  readiness  to  be  social,  would  have 
made  a  remarkable  sum  total. 

Before  their  glasses  clinked  together  he  said,  with 
the  off-handed  courtesy  indigenous  to  bar-rooms, 
where  acquaintances  are  made  with  so  little  trouble 
and  ceremony : 


84    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Mr.  Haldane,  my  friends  from  New  York,  Mr. 
Van  Wink  and  Mr.  Ketchem." 

Haldane  turned  and  saw  two  young  men  standing 
conveniently  near,  who  were  dressed  faultlessly  in 
the  style  of  the  day.  There  was  nothing  in  their 
appearance  to  indicate  that  they  did  not  reside  on 
Fifth  Avenue,  and,  indeed,  they  may  have  had  rooms 
on  that  fashionable  street. 

Messrs.  Van  Wink  and  Ketchem  had  also  a  cer 
tain  air  of  superiority,  and  they  shook  hands  with 
Haldane  in  a  way  that  implied, 

"  While  we  are  metropolitan  men,  we  recognize  in 
you  an  extraordinarily  fine  specimen  of  the  provin 
cial."  And  the  young  man  was  not  indifferent  to 
their  unspoken  flattery.  He  at  once  invited  them 
also  to  state  to  the  smirking  bar-tender  their  prefer 
ences  among  the  liquid  compounds  before  them,  and 
soon  four  glasses  clinked  together. 

With  fine  and  thoughtful  courtesy  they  had  chosen 
the  same  mixture  that  he  had  ordered  for  himself, 
and  surely  some  of  the  milk  of  human  kindness  must 
have  been  infused  in  the  punches  which  they  im 
bibed,  for  Messrs.  Van  Wink  and  Ketchem  seemed 
to  grow  very  friendly  toward  Haldane.  Perhaps 
taking  a  drink  with  a  man  inspired  these  worthies 
with  a  regard  for  him  similar  to  that  which  the  social 
eating  of  bread  creates  within  the  breasts  of  Bed 
ouins,  who,  as  travelers  assert,  will  protect  with  their 
lives  a  stranger  that  has  sat  at  their  board  ;  but  rob 
and  murder,  as  a  matter  of  course,  all  who  have  not 
enjoyed  that  distinction.  Whatever  rnay  have  been 
the  cause,  the  stylish  men  from  the  city  were  evi- 


BIRDS  OF  PREY.  85 

dently  pleased  with  Haldane,  and  they  delicately 
suggested  that  he  was  such  an  unusually  clever  fel 
low  that  they  were  willing  to  know  him  better. 

"  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Haldane,"  protested  Mr.  Van 
Wink,  "  our  meeting  is  an  unexpected  pleasure. 
Having  completed  our  business  in  town,  time  was 
hanging  heavily  on  our  hands,  and  it  is  still  a  full 
half-hour  before  the  train  leaves." 

"  Let  us  drink  again  to  further  acquaintance,"  said 
Mr.  Ketchem  cordially,  evincing  a  decided  disposi 
tion  to  be  friendly  ;  "  Mr.  Haldane  is  in  New  York 
occasionally,  and  we  would  be  glad  to  meet  him  and 
help  him  pass  a  pleasant  hour  there,  as  he  is  enliven 
ing  the  present  hour  for  us." 

Haldane  was  not  cautious  by  nature,  and  had  been 
predisposed  by  training  to  regard  all  flattering  atten 
tion  and  interest  as  due  to  the  favorable  impression 
which  he  supposed  himself  to  make  invariably  upon 
those  whose  judgment  was  worth  any  thing.  *  It  is 
true  there  had  been  one  marked  and  humiliating  ex 
ception.  But  the  consoling  thought  now  flashed 
into  his  mind  that,  perhaps,  Miss  Romeyn  was,  as 
she  asserted,  but  a  mere  "  child,"  and  incapable 
of  appreciating  him.  The  influence  of  the  punch 
he  had  drank  and  the  immediate  and  friendly  inter 
est  manifested  by  these  gentlemen  who  knew  the 
world,  gave  a  plausible  coloring  to  this  explana 
tion  of  her  conduct.  After  all,  was  he  not  judging 
her  too  harshly  ?  She  had  not  realized  whom  she  had 
refused,  and  when  she  grew  up  in  mind  as  well  as  in 
form  she  might  be  glad  to  act  very  differently.  "  But 
I  may  choose  to  act  differently  also,"  was  his  haughty 
mental  conclusion. 


86     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

This  self-communion  took  place  while  the  still 
smirking  bar-tender  was  mixing  the  decoctions  or 
dered  by  the  cordial  and  generous  Mr.  Ketchem.  A 
moment  later  four  glasses  clinked  together,  and  Hal- 
dane's  first  acquaintance — the  young  man  with  the 
air  of  slight  but  urbane  superiority — felicitated  him 
self  that  he  had  "  made  two  free  drinks  "  within  a 
brief  space  of  time. 

The  effect  of  the  liquor  upon  Haldane  after  his 
long  fast  was  far  greater  than  if  it  had  been  taken 
after  a  hearty  meal,  and  he  began  to  reciprocate  the 
friendliness  of  the  strangers  with  increasing  interest. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  our  meeting  is  one  of 
those  fortunate  incidents  which  promise  much  more 
pleasure  to  come.  I  have  ordered  a  little  lunch  in 
the  dining-room.  It  will  take  but  a  moment  for  the 
waiters  to  add  enough  for  three  more,  and  then  we 
will  ride  into  the  city  together,  for  my  business  takes 
me  there  this  evening  also." 

"  I  declare,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Van  Wink  in  a  tone 
of  self-gratulation,  "  were  I  piously  inclined  I  should 
be  tempted  to  call  our  meeting  quite  providential. 
But  if  we  lunch  with  you  it  must  be  on  condition 
that  you  take  a  little  supper  with  us  at  the  Bruns 
wick  after  we  arrive  in  town." 

"  No  one  could  object  to  such  agreeable  terms," 
cried  Haldane  ;  "  come,  let  us  adjourn  to  the  dining- 
room.  By  the  way,  Mr.  Bar-tender,  send  us  a  bottle 
of  your  best  claret." 

The  young  man  who  an  hour  before  had  regarded 
himself  as  cruelly  blighted  for  life,  was -quite  success 
ful  in  "  hiding  his  despair  with  laughter."  Indeed, 


BIRDS  OF  PREY.  87 

from  its  lo-udness  and  frequency,  undue  exhilaration 
was  su£T£fested  rather  than  a  "  secret  sorrow."  It 

oo 

gave  him  a  fine  sense  of  power  and  of  his  manly 
estate  to  see  the  waiters  bustling  around  at  his  bid 
ding,  and  to  remember  that  he  was  the  host  of  three 
gentlemen,  who,  while  very  superior  in  style,  and 
evidently  possessed  of  wealth,  still  recognized  in  him 
an  equal  with  whom  they  were  glad  to  spend  a  social 
hour. 

Scarcely  ever  before  had  he  met  any  one  who 
appreciated  him  as  fully  as  did  Messrs.  Van  Wink 
and  Ketchem,  and  their  courteous  deference  con 
firmed  a  view  which  he  had  long  held,  that  only  in 
the  large  sphere  of  the  metropolis  could  he  find 
his  true  level  and  most  congenial  companionships. 
These  young  men  had  a  style  about  them  which 
provincials  could  not  imitate.  Even  the  superior 
gentleman  who  introduced  them  to  him  had  a  slight 
ly  dimmed  and  tarnished  appearance  as  he  sat  beside 
his  friends.  There  was  an  immaculate  finish  and 
newness  about  all  their  appointments — not  a  speck 
upon  their  linen,  nor  a  grain  of  dust  upon  their  broad 
cloth  and  polished  boots.  If  the  theory  be  true 
that  character  is  shown  in  dress,  these  men,  out 
wardly  so  spotless,  must  be  worthy  of  the  confidence 
with  which  they  had  inspired  their  new  acquaintance. 
They  suggested  two  bright  coins  just  struck  from 
the  mint,  and  "  They  have  the  ring  of  true  metal," 
thought  Haldane. 

It  seemed  to  the  young  men  that  they  had  just 
fairly  commenced  to  enjoy  their  lunch,  when  a  pro 
longed  shriek  of  a  locomotive,  dying  away  in  the 


88     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

distance,  awakened  them  to  a  sense  of  the  flight  of 
time.  Hastily  pulling  out  his  watch,  Haldane  ex 
claimed  with  an  oath, 

"  There  goes  our  train." 

Messrs.  Van  Wink  and  Ketchem  were  apparently 
much  concerned. 

"  Haldane,"  they  exclaimed,  "you  are  much  too 
entertaining  a  fellow  for  one  to  meet  when  there's  a 
train  to  be  caught." 

"  This  is  a  serious  matter  for  me,"  said  Haldane, 
somewhat  sobered  by  the  thought  of  Mr.  Arnot's 
wrath ;  "  I  had  important  business  in  town." 

"Can  it  not  be  arranged  by  telegraph?  "  asked 
Mr.  Van  Wink  in  a  tone  of  kindly  solicitude. 

"  One  can't  send  money  by  telegraph.  No  ;  I 
must  go  myself." 

The  eyes  of  Haldane's  three  guests  met  for  a  sec 
ond  in  a  way  that  indicated  the  confirmation  of 
something  in  their  minds,  and  yet  so  evanescent  was 
this  glance  of  intelligence  that  a  cool,  close  observer 
would  scarcely  have  detected  it,  much  less  their 
flushed  and  excited  host. 

"  Don't  worry,  Haldane,"  said  his  first  acquaint 
ance  ;  "  there  is  an  owl-train  along  at  eleven  to-night, 
and  you  can  mail  your  check  or  draft  on  that  if  you 
do  not  care  to  travel  at  such  an  unearthly  hour." 

"  O,  there  is  a  late  train  !  "  cried  the  young  man, 
much  relieved.  "  Then  I'm  all  right.  I  am  obliged 
to  go  myself,  as  the  funds  I  carry  are  in  such  a  shape 
that  I  cannot  mail  them." 

Again  the  eyes  of  his  guests  met  with  a  furtive 
gleam  of  satisfaction. 


BIRDS  OF  PREY.  gp 

Now  that  Haldane  felt  himself  safely  out  of  his 
dilemma,  he  began  to  be  solicitous  about  his  com 
panions. 

"  I  fear,"  he  said,  "  that  my  poor  courtesy  can 
make  but  small  amends  for  the  loss  of  your  train." 

"  Well,  Haldane,"  said  Mr.  Ketchem,  with  great 
apparent  candor,  "  I  speak  for  myself  when  I  say 
that  I  would  regret  losing  this  train  under  most  cir 
cumstances,  but  with  the  prospect  of  a  social  evening 
together  I  can  scarcely  say  that  I  do." 

"I,  too,"  cried  Mr.  Van  Wink,  "am  inclined  to 
regard  our  loss  of  the  train  as  a  happy  freak  of  for 
tune.  Let  us  take  the  owl-train,  also,  Ketchem, 
and  make  a  jovial  night  of  it  with  Mr.  Haldane." 

"  Fill  up  your  glasses,  and  we'll  drink  to  a  jolly 
night,"  cried  Haldane,  and  all  complied  with  won 
derful  zest  and  unanimity.  The  host,  however,  was 
too  excited  and  preoccupied  to  note  that  while  Mr. 
Van  Wink  and  Mr.  Ketchem  were  always  ready  to 
have  their  glasses  filled,  they  never  drained  them 
very  low;  and  thus  it  happened  that  he  and  the 
slightly  superior  gentleman  who  made  free  drinks 
one  of  the  chief  objects  of  existence  shared  most  of 
the  bottle  of  wine  between  them. 

As  the  young  men  rose  from  the  lunch  table  Hal 
dane  called  this  individual  aside,  and  said : 

"  Harker,  I  want  you  to  help  a  fellow  out  of  a 
scrape.  You  must  know  that  I  was  expected  to 
leave  town  on  the  five-thirty  train.  I  do  not  care  to 
be  seen  in  the  public  rooms,  for  old  cast-iron  Arnot 
might  make  a  row  about  my  delay,  even  though  it 
will  make  no  difference  in  his  business.  Please  en- 


po     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

gage  a  private  room,  where  we  can  have  a  bottle  of 
wine  and  a  quiet  game  of  cards,  and  no  one  be  the 
wiser." 

"  Certainly — nothing  easier  in  the  world — I  know 
just  the  room — cozy — off  one  side — wait  a  moment, 
gentlemen." 

It  seemed  but  a  moment  before  he  returned  and 
led  them,  preceded  by  a  bell-boy,  to  just  such  an 
apartment  as  he  had  described.  Though  the  even 
ing  was  mild,  a  fire  was  lighted  in  the  grate,  and  as 
it  kindled  it  combined  with  the  other  appointments 
to  give  the  apartment  an  air  of  luxurious  comfort. 

"  Bring  us  a  bottle  of  sherry,"  said  Haldane  to  the 
bell-boy. 

"  Also  a  pack  of  cards,  some  fine  old  brandy  and 
cigars,  and  charge  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Ketchem  ;  "  I 
wish  to  have  my  part  in  this  entertainment.  Come, 
Harker,  take  a  seat." 

"  Desperately  sorry  I  can't  spend  the  evening  with 
"you,"  said  this  sagacious  personage,  who  realized 
with  extreme  regret  that  not  even  for  the  prospect 
of  unlimited  free  potations  could  he  afford  to  risk 
the  loss  of  his  eminent  respectability,  which  he  re 
garded  as  a  capitalist  does  his  principal,  something 
that  must  be  drawn  upon  charily.  Mr.  Harker 
knew  that  his  mission  was  ended,  and,  in  spite  of 
the  order  for  the  sherry  and  brandy,  he  had  suffi 
cient  strength  of  mind  to  retire.  In  delicate  business 
transactions  like  the  one  under  consideration  he 
made  it  a  point  to  have  another  engagement  when 
matters  got  about  as  far  along  as  they  now  were 
in  Haldane's  case.  If  any  thing  unpleasant  occurred 


BIRDS  OF  PREY.  gi 

between  parties  whom  he  introduced  to  each  other, 
and  he  was  summoned  as  a  witness,  he  grew  so 
exceedingly  dignified  and  superior  in  his  bearing 
that  every  one  felt  like  asking  his  pardon  for  their 
suspicions.  He  always  proved  an  alibi,  and  left  the 
court  room  with  the  air  of  an  injured  man.  As  peo 
ple,  however,  became  familiar  with  his  haunts  and 
habits,  there  was  an  increasing  number  who  regarded 
his  virtuous  assumptions  and  professions  of  igno 
rance  in  respect  to  certain  cases  of  swindling  with 
incredulous  smiles. 

Mr.  Harker,  however,  could  not  tear  himself  away 
till  the  brandy  and  sherry  appeared,  and,  after  pay 
ing  his  respects  to  both,  went  to  keep  his  engage 
ment,  which  consisted  in  lounging  about  another 
hotel  on  the  other  side  of  the  depot. 

Messrs.  Van  Wink  and  Ketchem,  of  course,  both 
knew  how  to  deal  the  cards,  and  with  apologetic 
laughter  the  young  men  put  up  small  stakes  at  first, 
just  to  give  zest  to  the  amusement.  Haldane  lost 
the  first  game,  won  the  second  and  third,  lost  again, 
had  streaks  of  good  and  bad  luck  so  skillfully  inter 
mingled  that  the  thought  often  occurred  to  him, 

"  These  fellows  play  as  fair  a  game  as  I  ever  saw, 
and  know  how  to  win  and  lose  money  like  gentle 
men." 

But  these  high-toned  "gentlemen"  always  man 
aged  to  keep  the  bottle  of  sherry  near  him,  and 
when  they  lost  they  would  good-naturedly  and  hila 
riously  propose  that  they  take  a  drink.  Haldane 
always  complied,  but  while  he  drank  they  only  sipped. 

As  the  evening  waned  the  excitement  of  the  infat- 


92     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

uated  youth  deepened.  The  heat  of  the  room  and 
the  fumes  of  tobacco  combined  with  the  liquor  to 
unman  him  and  intensify  the  natural  recklessness  of 
his  character. 

There  is,  probably,  no  abnormal  passion  that  so 
completely  masters  its  victims  as  that  for  gambling; 
and  as  Haldane  won,  lost,  and  won  again,  he  became 
so  absorbed  as  to  be  unconscious  of  the  flight  of 
time  and  all  things  else.  But  as  he  lost  self-control, 
as  he  half-unconsciously  put  his  glass  to  his  lips  with 
increasing  frequency,  his  companions  grew  cooler 
and  more  wary.  Their  eyes  no  longer  beamed  good- 
naturedly  upon  their  victim,  but  began  to  emit  the 
eager,  cruel  gleams  of  some  bird  of  prey. 

But  they  still  managed  the  affair  with  consum 
mate  skill.  Their  aim  was  to  excite  Haldane  to  the 
last  degree  of  recklessness,  and  yet  keep  him  suffi 
ciently  sober  for  further  playing.  From  Harker  they 
had  learned  that  Mr.  Arnot  had  probably  sent  him 
in  the  place  of  the  clerk  usually  employed ;  and,  if  so, 
it  was  quite  certain  that  he  had  a  large  sum  of  money 
upon  his  person.  Haldane's  words  on  becoming 
aware  that  he  had  missed  his  train  confirmed  their 
surmises,  and  it  was  now  their  object  to  beguile  him 
into  a  condition  which  would  make  him  capable  of 
risking  his  employer's  funds.  They  also  wished  that 
he  should  remain  sufficiently  sober  to  be  responsible 
for  this  act,  and  to  remember,  as  he  recalled  the 
circumstances,  that  it  was  his  own  act.  Therefore 
they  kept  the  brandy  beyond  his  reach ;  that  was  not 
yet  needed. 

By  the  time  the  evening  was  half  over,  Haldane 


BIRDS  OF  PREY. 


93 


found  that,  although  he  had  apparently  won  consid 
erable  money,  he  had  lost  more;  and  that  not  a 
penny  of  his  own  funds  remained.  With  an  angry 
oath  he  stated  the  fact  to  his  companions. 

"That's  unfortunate,"  said  Mr.  Ketchem,  sym 
pathetically.  "  There  are  nearly  two  hours  yet  be 
fore  the  train  leaves,  and  with  your  disposition 
toward  good  luck  to-night  you  could  clean  us  out  by 
that  time,  and  would  have  to  lend  us  enough  to  pay 
our  fares  to  New  York." 

"  It's  a  pity  to  give  up  our  sport  now  that  we  have 
just  got  warmed  up  to  it,"  added  Mr.  Van  Wink, 
suggestively.  "  Haven't  you  some  funds  about  you 
that  you  can  borrow  for  the  evening — just  enough  to 
keep  the  game  going,  you  know  ?  " 

Haldane  hesitated.  He  was  not  so  far  gone  but 
that  conscience  entered  an  emphatic  protest.  The 
trouble  was,  however,  that  he  had  never  formed  the 
habit  of  obeying  conscience,  even  when  perfectly 
sober.  Another  influence  of  the  past  also  proved 
most  disastrous.  His  mother's  weakness  now  made 
him  weak.  In  permitting  him  to  take  her  money 
without  asking,  she  had  undermined  the  instinct  of 
integrity  which  in  this  giddy  moment  of  temptation 
might  have  saved  him.  If  he  from  childhood  had 
been  taught  that  the  property  of  others  was  sacred, 
the  very  gravity  of  the  crime  to  which  he  now  was 
urged  would  have  sobered  and  awakened  him  to  his 
danger.  But  his  sense  of  wrong  in  this  had  been 
blunted,  and  there  was  no  very  strong  repugnance 
toward  the  suggestion. 

Moreover,  his  brain  was  confused  and  excited  to 


94     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

the  last  degree  possible  in  one  who  still  continued 
sane  and  responsible.  Indeed,  it  would  be  difficult 
to  say  how  far  he  was  responsible  at  this  supreme 
moment  of  danger.  He  certainly  had  drank  so  much 
as  to  be  unable  to  realize  the  consequences  of  his 
action. 

After  a  moment's  hesitation,  like  one  who  feebly 
tries  to  brace  himself  in  a  swift  torrent,  the  gambler's 
passion  surged  up  against  and  over  his  feeble  will 
— then  swept  him  down. 


THEIR    VICTIM.  95 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THEIR   VICTIM. 

HALDANE  drew  an  envelope  from  his  breast 
pocket,  and  laid  it  on  the  table,  saying  with 
a  reckless  laugh, 

"  Well,  well,  as  you  say,  there  is  no  great  harm  in 
borrowing  a  little  of  this  money,  and  returning  it 
again  before  the  evening  is  over.  The  only  question 
is  how  to  open  this  package,  for  if  torn  it  may  re 
quire  explanations  that  I  do  not  care  to  make." 

"  We  can  easily  manage  that,"  laughed  Ketchem ; 
"  put  the  package  in  your  pocket  a  few  moments," 
and  he  rang  the  bell. 

To  the  boy  who  appeared  he  said,  "  Bring  us  three 
hot  whisky  punches  —  hot,  remember;  steaming 
hot." 

He  soon  reappeared  with  the  punch,  and  the  door 
was  locked  again. 

"  Hold  your  package  over  the  steam  of  your  punch, 
and  the  gum  will  dissolve  so  that  you  can  open  and 
close  it  in  a  way  that  will  defy  detection." 

The  suggestion  was  speedily  carried  out. 

"  Now,"  continued  Mr.  Ketchem,  "  the  punch  hav 
ing  already  served  so  excellent  a  turn,  we  will  finish 
it  by  drinking  to  your  good  luck." 


9 6     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Haldane  won  the  first  two  games.  This  success, 
together  with  the  liquor,  which  was  strong,  almost 
wholly  dethroned  his  reason,  and  in  his  mad,  drunk 
en  excitement  he  began  to  stake  large  sums.  The 
eyes  of  his  companions  grew  more  wolfish  than  ever, 
and,  after  a  significant  flash  toward  each  other,  the 
gamblers  turned  fortune  against  their  victim  finally. 
The  brandy  was  now  placed  within  his  reach,  and 
under  its  influence  Haldane  threw  down  money  at 
random.  The  first  package  was  soon  emptied.  He 
snatched  the  other  from  his  pocket  and  tore  it  open, 
but  before  its  contents  had  likewise  disappeared  his 
head  drooped  upon  his  breast',  and  he  became  insen 
sible. 

They  watched  him  a  moment,  smiled  grimly  at 
each  other,  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief,  and,  rising, 
stretched  themselves  like  men  who  had  been  under 
a  strain  that  had  taxed  them  severely. 

"  Half  an  hour  yet,"  said  Mr.  Van  Wink;  "  wish 
the  time  was  up." 

"  This  is  a  heavy  swag  if  we  get  off  safely  with  it. 
I  say,  Haldane,  wake  up." 

But  Haldane  was  sunk  in  the  deepest  stupor. 

"  I  guess  it's  safe  enough,"  said  Van  Wink  answer 
ing  Ketchem's  questioning  eyes. 

The  latter  thereupon  completely  emptied  the  re 
maining  package  of  money,  and  replaced  the  two 
empty  envelopes  in  Haldane's  breast-pocket,  and 
buttoned  up  his  coat. 

With  mutual  glances  of  exultation  at  the  largeness 
of  the  sum,  they  swiftly  divided  the  spoil  between 
them.  It  was  agreed  that  after  leaving  the  hotel 


THEIR    VICTIM.  97 

they  should  separate,  that  one  should  go  to  Boston, 
the  other  to  Baltimore,  and  that  they  should  return 
to  their  old  haunts  in  New  York  after  the  interest 
caused  by  the  affair  had  died  out.  Then,  lighting 
cigars,  they  coolly  sat  down  to  wait  for  the  train, 
having  first  opened  a  window  and  placed  Haldane 
where  the  fresh  air  would  blow  upon  him. 

When  the  time  of  departure  approached,  Mr.  Van 
Wink  went  to  the  bar  and  paid  both  their  own  and 
Haldane's  bill,  saying  that  they  would  now  vacate 
the  room.  On  his  return  Ketchem  had  so  far  aroused 
Haldane  that  he  was  able  to  leave  the  house  with 
their  assistance,  and  yet  so  intoxicated  as  to  be  inca 
pable  of  thinking  and  acting  for  himself.  They  took 
him  down  a  side  street,  now  utterly  deserted,  and  left 
him  on  the  steps  of  a  low  groggery,  from  whence  still 
issued  the  voices  of  some  late  revelers.  Five  minutes 
later  the  "  owl  train  "  bore  from  the  town  Messrs. 
Van  Wink  and  Ketchem,  who  might  be  called  with 
a  certain  aptness  birds  of  the  night  and  of  prey. 

Haldane  remained  upon  the  saloon  steps,  where 
he  had  been  left,  blinking  stupidly  at  a  distant  street 
lamp.  He  had  a  vague  impression  that  something 
was  wrong — that  a  misfortune  of  some  kind  had  be 
fallen  him,  but  all  was  confused  and  blurred.  He 
would  have  soon  gone  to  sleep  again  had  not  the 
door  opened,  and  a  man  emerged,  who  exclaimed : 

"  Faix,  an  who  have  we  here,  noddin'  to  himself 
as  if  he  knew  more'n  other  folks?  Are  ye  waitin* 
for  some  un  to  ax  ye  within  for  a  comfortin'  dhrop?  " 

"  Take  me  'ome,"  mumbled  Haldane. 

"  Where's  yer  home  ?  " 
5 


9 8     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Mrs.  Haldane's,"  answered  the  youth,  thinking 
himself  in  his  native  town. 

"  By  me  sowl,  if  it  isn't  Boss  Arnot's  new  clerk. 
Sure's  me  name  is  Pat  M'Cabe  'tis  Misther  Haldane. 
I  say,  are  ye  sick  ?  " 

"  Take  me  'ome." 

"  Faix,  I  see,"  winking  at  two  or  three  of  his  cro 
nies  who  had  gathered  at  the  open  door  ;  "  it's  a 
disase  I'm  taken  wid  meself  at  odd  spells,  though  I 
takes  moighty  good  care  to  kape  out  o'  the  way  of 
ould  man  Arnot  when  I'm  so  afflicted.  He  has  a 
quare  way  o'  thinkin'  that  ivery  man  about  him  can 
go  as  rigaler  as  if  made  in  a  mash-shine  shop,  bad 
luck  till  'im." 

Perhaps  all  in  Mr.  Arnot's  employ  would  have 
echoed  this  sentiment,  could  the  ill  luck  have  blight 
ed  him  without  reaching  them.  In  working  his  em- 
pl'oyds  as  he  did  his  machinery,  Mr.  Arnot  forgot 
that  the  latter  was  often  oiled,  but  that  he  entirely 
neglected  to  lubricate  the  wills  of  the  former  with 
occasional  expressions  of  kindness  and  interest  in 
their  welfare.  Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  even  down 
to  poor  Pat  M'Cabe,  man  of  all  work  around  the 
office  building,  all  felt  that  their  employer  was  a 
hard,  driving  taskmaster,  who  ever  looked  beyond 
them  and  their  interests  to  what  they  accomplished 
for  him.  The  spirit  of  the  master  infused  itself 
among  the  men,  and  the  tendency  of  each  one  to 
look  out  for  himself  without  regard  to  others  was 
increased.  If  Pat  had  served  a  kinder  and  more 
considerate  man,  he  might  have  been  inclined  to 
show  greater  consideration  for  the  intoxicated  youth  ; 


THEIR    VICTIM. 


99 


but  Pat's  favorite  phrase,  "  Divil  take  the  hindmost," 
was  but  a  fair  expression  of  the  spirit  which  ani 
mated  his  master,  and  the  majority  in  his  employ. 
When,  therefore,  Haldane,  in  his  thick,  imperfect 
utterance,  again  said,  "Take  me  'ome,"  Pat  conclud 
ed  that  it  would  be  the  best  and  safest  course  for 
himself.  Helping  the  young  man  to  his  feet  he  said, 

"Can  ye  walk?  Mighty  onstiddy  on  yer  pins; 
but  I'm  athinkin'  I  can  get  ye  to  the  big  house  afore 
mornin*.  Should  I  kape  ye  out  o'  the  way  till  ye 
got  sober,  and  ould  man  Arnot  find  it  out,  I'd  be 
in  the  street  meself  widout  a  job  'fore  he  ate  his 
dinner.  Stiddy  now ;  lean  aginst  me,  and  don't 
wabble  yer  legs  so." 

With  like  exhortations  the  elder  and  more  wary 
disciple  of  Bacchus  disappeared  with  his  charge  in 
the  gloom  of  the  night. 

It  chanced  that  the  light  burned  late,  on  this 
evening,  in  Mrs.  Arnot's  parlor.  The  lady's  indis 
position  had  confined  her  to  her  room  and  couch 
during  the  greater  part  of  the  day  ;  but  as  the  sun 
declined,  the  distress  in  her  head  had  gradually 
ceased,  and  she  had  found  her  airy  drawing-room  a 
welcome  change  from  the  apartment  heavy  with  the 
odor  of  anaesthetics.  Two  students  from  the  uni 
versity  had  aided  in  beguiling  the  early  part  of  the 
evening,  and  then  Laura  had  commenced  reading 
aloud  an  interesting  tale,  which  had  suspended  the 
consciousness. of  time.  But  as  the  marble  clock  on 
the  mantel  chimed  out  the  hour  of  twelve,  Mrs. 
Arnot  rose  hastily  from  the  sofa,  exclaiming : 

"  What  am  I  thinking  of,  to  keep  you  up  so  late  ! 


100    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

If  your  mother  knew  that  you  were  out  of  your  bed 
she  would  hesitate  to  trust  you  with  me  again." 

"  One  more  chapter,  dear  auntie,  please  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  several  more — to-morrow  ;  but  to  bed 
now,  instanter.  Come,  kiss  your  remorseful  aunt 
good-night.  I'll  remain  here  a  while  longer,  for 
either  your  foolish  story  or  the  after  effects  of  my 
wretched  headache  make  me  a  trifle  morbid  and 
wakeful  to-night.  O,  how  that  bell  startles  me! 
what  can  it  mean  so  late  ?  " 

The  loud  ring  at  the  door  remained  unanswered  a 
few  moments,  for  the  servants  had  all  retired.  But 
the  applicant  without  did  not  wait  long  before  re 
peating  the  summons  still  more  emphatically. 

Then  they  heard  the  library  door  open,  and  Mr. 
Arnot's  heavy  step  in  the  hall,  as  he  went  himself  to 
learn  the  nature  of  the  untimely  call.  His  wife's 
nervous  timidity  vanished  at  once,  and  she  stepped 
forward  to  join  her  husband,  while  Laura  stood  look 
ing  out  from  the  parlor  entrance  with  a  pale  and 
frightened  face.  "  Can  it  be  bad  news  from  home?" 
she  thought. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Arnot,  sternly. 

"  Me  and  Misther  Haldane,"  answered  a  voice 
without  in  broadest  brogue. 

"  Mr.  Haldane  \  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Arnot  excitedly ; 
"  what  can  this  mean  ?  Who  is  me?  "  he  next  asked 
loudly. 

"  Me  is  Pat  M'Cabe,  sure  ;  the  same  as  tidies  up 
the  office  and  does  yer  irrinds.  Mr.  Haldane's  had 
a  bad  turn,  and  I've  brought  him  home." 

As  Mr.  Arnot  swung  open  the  door,  a  man,  who 


THEIR  VICTIM.  IOi 

seemingly  had  been  leaning  against  it,  fell  prone 
within  the  hall.  Laura  gave  a  slight  scream,  and 
Mrs.  Arnot  was  much  alarmed,  thinking  that  Hal- 
dane  was  suffering  from  some  sudden  and  alarming 
attack.  Thoughts  of  at  once  telegraphing  to  his 
mother  were  entering  her  mind,  when  the  object  of 
her  solicitude  tried  to  rise,  and  mumbled  in  the 
thick  utterance  of  intoxication, 

"This  isn't  home.     Take  me  to  mother's." 

Mrs.  Arnot's  eyes  turned  questioningly  to  her 
husband,  and  she  saw  that  his  face  was  dark  with 
anger  and  disgust. 

"  He  is  drunk,"  he  said,  turning  to  Pat,  who  stood 
in  the  door,  cap  in  hand. 

"  Faix,  sur,  it  looks  rnoighty  loike  it.  But  it's 
not  for  a  dacent  sober  man  loike  meself  to  spake  sar- 
tainly  o'  sich  matters." 

"  Few  words  and  to  the  point,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Arnot 
harshly ;  "  your  breath  tells  where  you  have  been. 
But  where  did  you  find  this — and  how  came  you  to 
find  him?" 

Either  Mr.  Arnot  was  at  a  loss  for  a  term  which 
would  express  his  estimation  of  the  young  man,  who 
had  slowly  and  unsteadily  risen,  and  was  supporting 
himself  by  holding  fast  the  hat-rack,  or  he  was 
restrained  in  his  utterance  by  the  presence  of  his 
wife. 

"  Well,  sur,"  said  Pat,  with  as  ingenuous  and  can 
did  an  air  as  if  he  were  telling  the  truth,  "  the  wife 
o'  a  neighbor  o'  mine  was  taken  on  a  suddint,  and  I 
went  for  the  docther,  and  as  I  was  a  comin'  home, 
who  shud  I  see  sittin'  on  a  doorsthep  but  Misther 


102     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Haldane,  and  I  thought  it  me  duty  to  bring  him 
home  to  yees." 

"  You  have  done  right.  Was  it  on  the  doorstep 
of  a  drinking-place  you  found  him  ?  " 

"  I'm  athinkin'  it  was,  sur ;  it  had  that  sort  o'  look." 

Mr.  Arnot  turned  to  his  wife  and  said  coldly, 
"  You  now  see  how  it  works.  But  this  is  not  a  fit 
object  for  you  and  Laura  to  look  upon  ;  so  please 
retire.  I  will  see  that  he  gets  safely  to  his  room.  I 
suppose  he  must  go  there,  though  the  station-house 
is  the  more  proper  place  for  him." 

"  He  certainly  must  go  to  his  own  room,"  said 
Mrs.  Arnot  firmly,  but  quietly. 

"  Well,  then,  steady  him  along  up  the  stairs,  Pat. 
I  will  show  you  where  to  put  the — "  and  Mr.  Arnot 
again  seemed  to  hesitate  for  a  term,  but  the  blank 
was  more  expressive  of  his  contempt  than  any  epi 
thet  could  be,  since  his  tone  and  manner  suggested 
the  worst. 

Returning  to  the  parlor,  Mrs.  Arnot  found  Laura's 
face  expressive  of  the  deepest  alarm  and  distress. 

"  O  auntie,  what  does  all  this  mean  ?  Am  I  in 
any  way  to  blame  ?  He  said  he  would  go  to  ruin 
if  I  didn't — but  how  could  I  ?  " 

"  No,  my  dear,  you  are  not  in  the  slightest  degree 
to  blame.  Mr.  Haldane  seems  both  bad  and  fool 
ish.  I  feel  to-night  that  he  is  not  worthy  to  speak 
to  you  ;  much  less  is  he  fit  to  be  intrusted  with 
that  which  you  will  eventually  give,  I  hope,  only  to 
one  who  is  pre-eminently  noble  and  good.  Come 
with  me  to  your  room,  my  child.  I  am  very  sorry  I 
permitted  you  to  stay  up  to-night." 


THEIR   VICTIM. 


I03 


But  Laura  was  sleepless  and  deeply  troubled  :  she 
had  never  seen  a  laborer — much  less  one  of  her  own 
acquaintances — in  Haldane's  condition  before ;  and 
to  her  young,  innocent  mind  the  event  had  almost 
the  character  of  a  tragedy.  Although  conscious  of 
entire  blamelessness,  she  supposed  that  she  was  more 
directly  the  cause  of  Haldane's  behavior  than  was 
true,  and  that  he  was  carrying  out  his  threat  to  de 
stroy  himself  by  reckless  dissipation.  She  did  not 
know  that  he  had  been  beguiled  into  his  miserable 
condition  through  bad  habits  of  long  standing,  and 
that  he  had  fallen  into  the  clutches'  of  those  who  al 
ways  infest  public  haunts,  and  live  by  preying  upon 
the  fast,  foolish,  and  unwary.  Haldane,  from  his 
character  and  associations,  was  liable  to  such  an  ex 
perience  whenever  circumstances  combined  to  make 
it  possible.  Young  men  with  no  more  principle 
than  he  possessed  are  never  safe  from  disaster,  and 
they  who  trust  them  trust  rather  to  the  chances  of 
their  not  meeting  the  peculiar  temptations  and  tests 
to  which  they  would  prove  unequal.  Laura  could 
not  then  know  how  little  she  had  to  do  with  the 
tremendous  downfall  of  her  premature  lover.  The 
same  conditions  given,  he  would  probably  have  met 
with  the  same  experience  upon  any  occasion.  After 
his  first  glass  of  punch  the  small  degree  of  discretion 
that  he  had  learned  thus  far  in  life  began  to  desert 
him  ;  and  every  man  as  he  becomes  intoxicated  is 
first  a  fool,  and  then  the  victim  of  every  one  who 
chooses  to  take  advantage  of  his  voluntary  helpless 
ness  and  degradation. 

But  innocent  Laura  saw  a  romantic  and  tragic  ele- 


104     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

ment  in  the  painful  event,  and  she  fell  asleep  with 
some  vague  womanly  thoughts  about  saving  a  fel 
low-creature  by  the  sacrifice  of  herself.  The  morn 
ing  light,  however,  the  truth  concerning  Haldane, 
and  her  own  good  sense,  would  banish  such  morbid 
fancies.  Indeed  the  worst  possible  way  in  which  a 
young  woman  can  set  about  reforming  a  bad  man  is 
to  marry  him.  The  usual  result  is  greatly  increased 
guilt  on  the  part  of  the  husband,  and  lifelong,  hope 
less  wretchedness  for  the  wife. 


PA  T  AND  THE  PRESS. 


105 


CHAPTER  IX. 

PAT  AND   THE  PRESS. 

PAT  having  steadied  and  half  carried  Haldane  to 
his  room,  Mr.  Arnot  demanded  of  his  clerk  what 
had  become  of  the  money  intrusted  to  his  care  ; 
but  his  only  answer  was  a  stupid,  uncomprehending 
stare. 

"  Hold  his  hands,"  said  Mr.  Arnot  impatiently. 

M'Cabe  having  obeyed,  the  man  of  business,  whose 
solicitude  in  the  affair  had  no  concern  with  the 
young  man's  immeasurable  loss,  but  related  only  to 
his  own  money,  immediately  felt  in  Haldane's  pock 
ets  for  the  envelopes  which  had  contained  the  thou 
sand  dollars  in  currency.  The  envelopes  were  safe 
enough — one  evidently  opened  with  the  utmost 
care,  and  the  other  torn  recklessly — but  the  money 
was  gone. 

When  Haldane  saw  the  envelopes,  there  was  a  mo 
mentary  expression  of  trouble  and  perplexity  upon 
his  face,  and  he  tried  to  speak  ;  but  his  thick  utter 
ance  was  unintelligible.  This  gleam  of  intelligence 
passed  quickly,  however,  and  the  stupor  of  intoxica 
tion  reasserted  itself.  His  heavy  eyelids  drooped, 
and  Pat  with  difficulty  could  keep  him  on  his  feet. 

"  Toss  him  there  on  the  lounge ;  take  off  his 
5* 


106     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

muddy  boots.  Nothing  further  can  be  done  while 
he  is  in  this  beastly  condition,"  said  Mr.  Arnot,  in 
a  voice  that  was  as  harsh  as  the  expression  of  his 
face. 

The  empty  envelopes  and  Mr.  Arnot's  dark  looks 
suggested  a  great  deal  to  Pat,  and  he  saw  that  one 
of  his  "  sprees  "  was  an  innocent  matter  compared 
with  this  affair. 

"  Now,  go  down  to  my  study  and  wait  there  for 
me." 

Pat  obeyed  in  a  very  steady  and  decorous  man 
ner,  for  the  matter  was  assuming  such  gravity  as  to 
sober  him  completely. 

Mr.  Arnot  satisfied  himself  that  there  was  no 
chance  of  escape  from  the  windows,  and  then,  after 
another  look  of  disgust  and  anger  at  Haldane,  who 
was  now  sleeping  heavily,  he  took  the  key  from  the 
door,  and  locked  it  on  the  outside. 

Descending  to  his  study,  the  irate  gentleman  next 
wrote  a  note,  and  gave  it  to  his  porter,  saying, 

"  Take  that  to  the  police  head-quarters,  and  ask 
that  it  be  sent  to  the  superintendent  at  once.  No 
mistake,  now,  as  you  value  your  place;  and  mind 
not  a  word  of  all  this  to  any  one." 

"  Faix,  sir,  I'll  be  as  dumb  as  an  eyster,  and  do 
yer  biddin'  in  a  jiffy,"  said  Pat,  backing  out  of  the 
room,  and  glad  to  escape  from  one  whose  threaten 
ing  aspect  seemed  to  forebode  evil  to  any  one  within 
his  reach. 

"  He  looks  black  enough  to  murther  the  poor 
young  spalpeen,"  muttered  the  Irishman,  as  he  has 
tened  to  do  his  errand,  remembering  now  with  trep- 


PAT  AND  THE  PRESS.  107 

idation  that,  though  he  had  escaped  from  his  mas 
ter,  the  big,  red  -  faced,  stout  -  armed  wife  of  his 
bosom  was  still  to  be  propitiated  after  his  late 
prowlings. 

When  he  entered  the  main  street,  a  light  that 
glimmered  from  the  top  of  a  tall  building  suggested 
how  he  might  obtain  that  kind  of  oil  which,  cast 
upon  the  domestic  billows  that  so  often  raged  in  his 
fourth-floor  back  room,  was  most  effective  in  pro 
ducing  a  little  temporary  smoothness. 

Since  the  weather  was  always  fouler  within  his  do 
mestic  haven  than  without,  and  on  this  occasion 
threatened  to  be  at  its  worst,  Pat  at  one  time  half 
decided  not  to  run  into  port  at  all  ;  but  the  glimmer 
of  the  light  already  mentioned  suggested  another 
course. 

Although  the  night  was  far  spent,  Pat  still  longed 
for  a  "wink  o'  slape  "  before  going  to  his  work,  and, 
in  order  to  enjoy  it,  knew  that  he  must  obtain  the 
means  of  allaying  the  storm,  which  was  not  merely 
brewing,  but  which,  from  the  lateness  of  the  hour, 
had  long  been  brewed.  In  his  own  opinion,  the 
greenness  of  his  native  isle  had  long  ago  faded  from 
his  mental  and  moral  complexion,  and  he  did  not 
propose  that  any  stray  dollars,  which  by  any  shrewd 
ness  or  artifice  could  be  diverted  into  his  pocket, 
should  get  by  him. 

Since  his  wife  had  developed  into  a  huge,  female 
divinity,  at  whose  shrine  it  seemed  probable  that  he 
would  eventually  become  a  human  sacrifice,  and 
whose  wrath,  in  the  meantime,  it  was  his  daily  task 
to  appease,  Pat  had  gradually  formed  the  habit  of 


108     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

making  a  sort  of  companion  of  himself.  In  accord 
ance  with  his  custom,  therefore,  he  stopped  under 
the  high  window  from  whence  gleamed  the  light,  for 
the  sake  of  a  little  personal  counsel. 

"  Now,  Pat,"  he  muttered,  "  if  yees  had  gone  home 
at  nine  o'clock,  yees  wudn't  be  afeard  to  go  home 
now ;  and  if  yees  go  home  now  widout  a  dollar 
more  or  less,  the  ould  'ooman  will  make  yer  wish 
yees  had  set  on  the  curb-stone  the  rest  o'  the  night. 
They  sez  some  men  has  no  bowels  o'  marcies ;  and 
after  what  I've  seen  the  night,  and  afore  the  night, 
too,  I  kin  belave  that  Boss  Arnot's  in'ards  were  cast 
at  the  same  foundry  where  he  gets  his  mash-shines. 
He  told  me  that  I  must  spake  nary  a  word  about 
what  I've  seen  and  heard,  and  if  I  should  thry  to 
turn  an  honest  penny  by  givin'  a  knowin'  wink  or 
two  where  they  wud  pay  for  the  same,  that  'ud  be 
the  ind  of  Pat  M'Cabe  at  the  big  office.  And  yet 
they  sez  that  them  as  buys  news  is  loike  them  that 
takes  stolen  goods — moighty  willin'  to  kape  .dark 
about  where  they  got  it,  so  that  they  kin  get  more 
next  time.  That's  the  iditor  of  the  Currier  in  yon 
high  room,  and  p'raps  he'll  pay  me  as  much  for  a 
wink  and  a  hint  the  night  as  I'll  get  for  me  day's 
work  termorrow.  Bust  me  if  I  don't  thry  him,  if 
he'll  fust  promise  me  to  say  if  any  one  axes  him  that 
he  niver  saw  Pat  M'Cabe  in  his  loife,"  and  the  sud 
denly  improvised  reporter  climbed  the  long  stairways 
to  where  the  night  editor  sat  at  his  desk. 

Pat  gave  a  hearty  rap  for  manners,  but  as  the 
night  was  waning  he  walked  in  without  waiting  for 
an  answer,  and  addressed  the  startled  newspaper 


PAT  AND  THE  PRESS.  IOy 

man  with  a  business-like  directness,  which  might 
often  be  advantageously  imitated : 

u  Is  this  the  shop  where  yer  pays  a  dacent  price 
for  news  ?  " 

"  It  depends  on  the  importance  of  the  news,  and 
its  truthfulness,"  answered  the  editor,  after  eying  the 
intruder  suspiciously  for  a  moment. 

"  Thin  I've  got  ye  on  both  counts,  though  I  didn't 
think  ye'd  bear  down  so  heavy  on  its  being  thrue," 
said  Pat,  advancing  confidently. 

As  the  door  of  the  press-room,  in  which  men  were 
at  work,  stood  open,  the  editor  felt  no  alarm  from 
the  sudden  appearance  of  the  burly  figure  before 
him,  but,  supposing  the  man  had  been  drinking,  he 
said  impatiently: 

"  Please  state  your  business  briefly,  as  my  time  is 
valuable." 

"  If  yer  time  is  worth  mor'n  news,  I'll  go  to  an 
other  shop/'  said  Pat  stiffly,  making  a  feint  of  depar 
ture.  " 

"  That's  a  good  fellow,  go  along,"  chimed  in  the 
editor,  bending  down  to  his  writing  again. 

Such  disastrous  acquiescence  puzzled  Pat  for  a 
moment,  and  he  growled,  "  No  wonder  yer  prints  a 
paper  that's  loike  a  lump  o'  lead,  when  'stead  o* 
lookin'  for  news  yer  turns  it  away  from  yer  doors." 

"Now,  look  here,  my  man, "said  the  editor  rising, 
"  if  you  have  anything  to  say,  say  it.  If  you  have 
been  drinking,  you  will  not  be  permitted  to  make  a 
row  in  this  office." 

"  It's  not  me,  but  another  man  that's  been  dhrink- 


HO    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Well,"  snarled,  the  editor,  "  if  the  other  man  had 
the  drink,  you  have  the  '  drunk/  and  if  you  don't 
take  yourself  off,  I'll  call  some  men  from  the  press 
room  'who  may  put  you  down  stairs  uncomfortably 
fast." 

"  Hould  on  a  bit,"  remonstrated  Pat,  "  before  yer 
ruffle  yer  feathers  clane  over  yer  head  and  blinds  yer 
eyes.  Wud  a  man  loike  Boss  Arnot  send  me,  if  I 
was  dhrunk,  wid  a  letther  at  this  toime  o'  night?  and 
wud  he  send  a  letther  to  the  suprintindent  o'  the 
perlice  at  this  toime  o'  the  night  to  ax  him  the  toime 
o'  day!  Afore  yer  calls  yer  spalpeens  out  o'  the 
press-room  squint  at  that." 

The  moment  the  editor  caught  sight  of  the  busi 
ness  stamp  on  Mr.  Arnot's  letter  and  the  formal 
handwriting,  his  manner  changed,  and  he  said 
suavely : 

<£  I  beg  your  pardon — we  have  misunderstood  one 
another — take  a  chair." 

"  There's  been  no  misunderstandin'  on  my  part," 
retorted  Pat,  with  an  injured  air  ;  "  I've  got  as  dainty 
a  bit  o'  scandal  jist  under  me  tongue  as  iver  ye  spiced 
yer  paper  wid,  and  yees  thrates  me  as  if  I  was  the 
inimy  o'  yer  sowl." 

"  Well,  you  see,"  said  the  editor  apologetically, 
"your  not  being  in  our  regular  employ,  Mr. — I  beg 
your  pardon — and  your  coming  in  this  unusual  way 
and  hour — "  , 

"  But,  begorry,  somethin'  unusual's  happened." 

"  So  I  understand  ;  it  was  very  good  of  you  to 
come  to  us  first  ;  just  give  me  the  points,  and  I  will 
jot  them  down." 


PA  T  AND  THE  PRESS.  !  1 1 

"But  what  are  yees  goin'  to  give  me  for  the 
pints?" 

"  That  depends  upon  what  they  are  worth.  News 
cannot  be  paid  for  till  we  learn  its  value." 

"Och!  here  I'm  rinnin  a  grate  risk  in  tellin' ye 
at  all,  and  whin  I've  spilt  it  all  out,  and  can't  pick  it 
up  agin,  ye  may  show  me  the  door,  and  tell  me  to 
go  'long  wid  me  rubbish." 

"  If  you  find  what  you  have  to  report  in  the  paper, 
you  may  know  it  is  worth  something.  So  if  you  will 
look  at  the  paper  to-morrow  you  can  see  whether  it 
will  be  worth  your  while  to  call  again,"  said  the  edi 
tor,  becoming  impatient  at  Pat's  hesitancy  to  open 
his  budget. 

"  But  I'm  in  sore  need  of  a  dollar  or  two  to-nisfht. 

o 

Dade,  it's  as  much  as  my  loife's  worth  to  go  home 
widout  'em." 

"  See  here,  my  good  friend,"  said  the  editor,  rising 
again  and  speaking  very  energetically  :  "  My  time  is 
very  valuable,  and  you  have  taken  considerable  of  it. 
Whatever  may  be  the  nature  of  your  news,  it  will 
not  be  worth  any  thing  to  me  if  you  do  not  tell  it 
at  once." 

"  Well,  you  see  the  biggest  part  o'  the  news  is 
goin'  to  happen  to-morrow." 

"  Well,  well,  what  has  happened  to-night?  " 
"Will  ye  promise  not  to  mention  me  name?" 
11  How  can  I  mention  it  when  I  don't  know  it?" 
"  That's  thrue,  that's  thrue.     Now  me  mind's  aisy 
on   that  pint,  for  ye  must  know  that  Boss  Arnot's 
in'ards  are  made  o'  cast  iron,  and  he'd  have  no  marcy 
on  a  feller.     Ye'll  surely  give  me  a  dollar,  at  laste." 


112     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Yes,  if  your  story  is  worth  printing,  and  I  give 
you  just  three  minutes  in  which  to  tell  it." 

Thus  pinned  down,  Pat  related  all  he  knew  and 
surmised  concerning  Haldane's  woful  predicament, 
saying  in  conclusion, 

"  Ye  must  know  that  this  Haldane  is  not  a  poor 
spalpeen  uv  a  clerk,  but  a  gintleman's  son.  They  sez 
that  his  folks  is  as  stylish  and  rich  as  the  Arnots 
themselves.  If  ye'll  have  a  reporther  up  at  the  office 
in  the  mornin',  ye'll  git  the  balance  o'  the  tale." 

Having  received  his  dollar,  Pat  went  chuckling  on 
his  way  to  deliver  his  employer's  letter  to  the  super 
intendent  of  the  city  police. 

"  Faix  !  I  was  as  wise  as  a  sarpent  in  not  tellin'  me 
name,  for  ye  niver  can  thrust  these  iditors.  It's  no 
green  Irishman  that  can  make  a  dollar  after  twelve  o' 
the  night." 

A  sleepy  reporter  was  aroused  and  dispatched  after 
Pat,  in  order  to  learn,  if  possible,  the  contents  of  Mr. 
Arnot's  note. 

In  the  meantime  heavily  leaded  lines — vague  and 
mysterious — concerning  "  Crime  in  High  Life,"  were 
set  up,  accompanied  on  the  editorial  page  by  a  para 
graph  to  the  following  effect : 

With  our  usual  enterprise  and  keen  scent  for  news,  we  discovered 
at  a  late  hour  last  night  that  an  intelligent  Irishman  in  the  employ 
of  Mr.  Arnot  had  been  intrusted  by  that  gentleman  with  a  letter 
written  after  the  hour  of  midnight  to  the  superintendent  of  the  police. 
The  guilty  party  appears  to  be  a  Mr.  Haldane — a  young  man  of  aris 
tocratic  and  wealthy  connections — who  is  at  present  in  Mr.  Arnot's 
employ,  and  a  member  of  his  family.  We  think  we  are  aware  of  the 
nature  of  his  grave  offense,  but  in  justice  to  all  concerned  we  refer 
our  readers  to  our  next  issue,  wherein  they  will  find  full  particulars  of 


PAT  AND  THE  PRESS.  I  j 3 

the  painful  affair,  since  we  have  obtained  peculiar  facilities  for  learn 
ing  them.     No  arrests  have  yet  been  made. 

"  That  will  pique  all  the  gossips  in  town,  and  near 
ly  double  our  next  issue,"  complacently  muttered 
the  local  editor,  as  he  carried  the  scrawl  at  the  last 
moment  into  the  composing-room. 

In  the  meantime  the  hero  of  our  story — if  such  a 
term  by  any  latitude  of  meaning  can  be  applied  to 
one  whose  folly  had  brought  him  into  such  a  prosaic 
and  miserable  plight — still  lay  in  a  heavy  stupor  on 
the  lounge  where  Pat  had  thrown  his  form,  that  had 
been  as  limp  and  helpless  as  if  it  had  become  a  mere 
body  without  a  soul.  But  the  consequences  of  his 
action  did  not  cease  with  his  paralysis,  any  more 
than  do  the  influences  of  evil  deeds  perish  with  a 
dying  man. 


114    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  X. 

RETURNING    CONSCIOUSNESS. 

MR.  ARNOT  did  not  leave  his  library  that  night. 
His  wife  came  to  the  door  and  found  it  lock 
ed.  To  her  appeal  he  replied  coldly,  but  decisively, 
that  he  was  engaged. 

She  sighed  deeply,  feeling  that  the  sojourn  of 
young  Haldane  under  her  roof  was  destined  to  end 
in  a  manner  most  painful  to  herself  and  to  her 
friend,  his  mother.  She  feared  that  the  latter  would 
blame  her  somewhat  for  his  miserable  fiasco,  and 
she  fully  believed  that  if  her  husband  permitted  the 
young  man  to  suffer  open  disgrace,  she  would  never 
be  forgiven  by  the  proud  and  aristocratic  lady. 

And  yet  she  felt  that  it  was  almost  useless  to  speak 
to  her  husband  in  his  present  mood,  or  to  hope  that 
he  could  be  induced  to  show  much  consideration  for 
so  grave  an  offense. 

Of  the  worst  feature  in  Haldane's  conduct,  how 
ever,  she  had  no  knowledge.  Mr.  Arnot  rarely  spoke 
to  his  wife  concerning  his  business,  and  she  had 
merely  learned,  the  previous  evening,  that  Haldane 
had  been  sent  to  New  York  upon  some  errand.  Act 
ing  upon  the  supposition  that  her  husband  had  re 
membered  and  complied  with  her  request,  she  gra- 


RETURNING  CONSCIOUSNESS^  115 

ciously  thanked  him  for  giving  the  young  man  a  little 
change  and  diverting  novelty  of  scene. 

Mr.  Arnot,  who  happened  to  verge  somewhat  to 
ward  a  complacent  mood  upon  this  occasion,  smiled 
grimly  at  his  wife's  commendation,  and  even  un 
bent  so  far  as  to  indulge  in  some  ponderous  at 
tempts  at  wit  with  Laura  concerning  her  "  magnifi 
cent  offer,"  and  asserted  that  if  she  had  been  "  like 
his  wife,  she  would  have  jumped  at  the  chance  of 
getting  hold  of  such  a  crude,  unreformed  specimen 
of  humanity.  Indeed,"  concluded  he,  "  I  did  not 
know  but  that  Mrs.  Arnot  was  bringing  about  the 
match,  so  that  she  might  have  a  little  of  the  raw 
material  for  reformatory  purposes  continually  on 
hand." 

Mrs.  Arnot  smiled,  as  she  ever  did,  at  her  hus 
band's  attempted  witticisms ;  but  what  he  regarded 
as  light,  delicate  shafts,  winged  sportively  and  care 
lessly,  had  rather  the  appearance  of  any  heavy  object 
that  came  to  hand  thrown  at  her  with  heedless,  in 
considerate  force.  It  is  due  Mr.  Arnot  to  say  that 
he  gave  so  little  thought  and  attention  to  the  wounds 
and  bruises  he  caused,  as  to  be  unaware  that  any 
had  been  made.  He  had  no  hair-springs  and  jewel- 
tipped  machinery  in  his  massive,  angular  organiza 
tion,  and  he  acted  practically  as  if  the  rest  of  hu 
manity  had  been  cast  in  the  same  mold  with  himself. 

But  Haldane's  act  touched  him  at  his  most  vul 
nerable  point.  Not  only  had  a  large  sum  of  his 
money  been  made  way  with,  but,  what  was  far  worse, 
there  had  been  a  most  serious  irregularity  in  the 
business  routine.  While,  therefore,  he  resolved  that 


Il6     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Haldane  should  receive  full  punishment,  the  ulterior 
thought  of  giving  the  rest  of  his  employes  a  warning 
and  intimidating  lesson  chiefly  occupied  his  mind. 

Aware  of  his  wife's  "  unbusiness-like  weakness  and 
sentimental  notions,"  as  he  characterized  her  traits, 
he  determined  not  to  see  her  until  he  had  carried 
out  his  plan  of  securing  repayment  of  the  money, 
and  of  striking  a  salutary  sentiment  of  fear  into  the 
hearts  of  all  who  were  engaged  in  carrying  out  his 
methodical  will. 

Therefore,  with  the  key  of  Haldane's  room  in  his 
pocket,  he  kept  watch  and  guard  during  the  remain 
der  of  the  night,  taking  only  such  rest  as  could  be 
obtained  on  the  lounge  in  his  library. 

At  about  sunrise  two  men  appeared,  and  rapped 
lightly  on  the  library  window.  Mr.  Arnot  imme 
diately  went  out  to  them,  and  placed  one  within  a 
summer-house  in  the  spacious  garden  at  the  rear  of 
the  house,  and  the  other  in  front,  where  he  would 
be  partially  concealed  by  evergreens.  By  this  ar 
rangement  the  windows  of  Haldane's  apartment  and 
every  entrance  of  the  house  were  under  the  sur 
veillance  of  police  officers  in  citizen's  dress.  Mr. 
Arnot's  own  personal  pride,  as  well  as  some  regard 
for  his  wife's  feelings,  led  him  to  arrange  that  the 
arrest  should  not  be  made  at  their  residence,  for  he 
wished  that  all  the  events  occurring  at  the  house 
should  be  excluded  as  far  as  possible  from  the  inev 
itable  talk  which  the  affair  would  occasion.  At  the 
same  time  he  proposed  to  guard  against  the  possi 
bility  of  Haldane's  escape,  should  fear  or  shame 
prompt  his  flight. 


RETURNING  CONSCIOUSNESS.  nj 

Having  now  two  assistant  watchers,  he  threw  him 
self  on  the  sofa,  and  took  an  hour  or  more  of  unbro 
ken  sleep.  On  awaking,  he  went  with  silent  tread 
to  the  door  of  Haldane's  room,  and,  after  listening 
a  moment,  was  satisfied  from  the  heavy  breathing 
within  that  its  occupant  was  still  under  the  influence 
of  stupor.  He  now  returned  the  key  to  the  door, 
and  unlocked  it  so  that  Haldane  could  pass  out  as 
soon  as  he  was  able.  Then,  after  taking  a  little  re 
freshment  in  the  dining-room,  he  went  directly  to 
the  residence  of  a  police  justice  of  his  acquaintance, 
who,  on  hearing  the  facts  as  far  as  then  known  con 
cerning  Haldane,  made  out  a  warrant  for  his  arrest, 
and  promised  that  the  officer  to  whom  it  would  be 
given  should  be  sent  forthwith  to  Mr.  Arnot's  office 
— for  thither  the  young  man  would  first  come,  or  be 
brought,  on  recovering  from  his  heavy  sleep. 

Believing  that  he  had  now  made  all  the  arrange 
ments  necessary  to  secure  himself  from  loss,  and  to 
impress  the  small  army  in  his  service  that  honesty 
was  the  "  best  policy  "  in  their  relations  with  him,  Mr. 
Arnot  walked  leisurely  to  one  of  his  factories  in  the 
suburbs,  partly  to  see  that  all  was  right,  and  partly 
to  remind  his  agents  there  that  they  were  in  the 
employ  of  one  whose  untiring  vigilance  would  not 
permit  any  neglect  of  duty  to  escape  undetected. 

Having  noted  that  the  routine  of  work  was  going 
forward  as  regularly  as  the  monotonous  clank  of  the 
machinery,  he  finally  wended  his  way  to  his  city 
office,  and  was  the  first  arrival  thither  save  Pat 
M'Cabe,  who  had  just  finished  putting  the  place  in 
order  for  the  business  of  the  day.  His  factotum 


Ii8    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

was  in  mortal  trepidation,  for  in  coming  across  town 
he  had  eagerly  bought  the  morning  Courier,  and  his 
complacent  sense  of  security  at  having  withheld  his 
name  from  the  "  oncivil  iditer  "  vanished  utterly  as 
he  read  the  words,  "  an  intelligent  Irishman  in  Mr. 
Arnot's  employ." 

"  Och !  bloody  blazes!  that  manes  me,"  he  had 
exclaimed  ;  "  and  ould  Boss  Arnot  will  know  it  jist 
as  well  as  if  they  had  printed  me  name  all  over  the 
paper.  Bad  luck  to  the  spalpeen,  and  worse  luck  to 
meself !  *  Intilligent  Irishman,'  am  I  ?  Then  what 
kind  o'  a  crather  would  one  be  as  had  no  sinse  a'  tall  ? 
Here  I've  bin  throwin'  away  forty  dollars  the  month 
for  the  sake  o'  one !  Whin  I  gets  me  discharge  I'd 
better  go  round  to  the  tother  side  o'  the  airth  than 
go  home  to  me  woife." 

Nor  were  his  apprehensions  allayed  as  he  saw  Mr. 
Arnot  reading  the  paper  with  a  darkening  scowl; 
but  for  the  present  Pat  was  left  in  suspense  as  to  his 
fate. 

Clerks  and  book-keepers  soon  appeared,  and 
among  them  a  policeman,  who  was  summoned  to  the 
inner  office,  and  given  a  seat  somewhat  out  of  sight 
behind  the  door. 

Upon  every  face  there  was  an  expression  of  sup 
pressed  excitement  and  expectation,  for  the  atten 
tion  of  those  who  had  not  seen  the  morning  paper 
was  speedily  called  to  the  ominous  paragraph.  But 
the  routine  and  discipline  of  the  office  prevailed,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  all  heads  were  bending  over  bulky 
journals  and  ledgers,  but  with  many  a  furtive  glance 
at  the  door. 


RETURNING  CONSCIOUSNESS.  119 

As  for  Pat,  he  had  the  impression  that  the  police 
man  within  would  collar  him  before  the  morning 
was  over,  and  march  him  off,  with  Haldane,  to  jail ; 
and  he  was  in  such  a  state  of  nervous  apprehension 
that  almost  any  event  short  of  an  earthquake  would 
be  a  relief  if  it  could  only  happen  at  once. 

The  April  sun  shone  brightly  and  genially  into 
the  apartment  in  which  Haldane  had  been  left  to 
sleep  off  his  drunken  stupor.  In  all  its  appoint 
ments  it  appeared  as  fresh,  inviting,  and  cleanly  as 
the  wholesome  light  without.  The  spirit  of  the 
housekeeper  pervaded  every  part  of  the  mansion, 
and  in  both  furniture  and  decoration  it  would  seem 
that  she  had  studiously  excluded  every  thing  which 
would  suggest  morbid  or  gloomy  thoughts.  It  was 
Mrs.  Arnot's  philosophy  that  outward  surroundings 
impart  their  coloring  to  the  mind,  and  are  a  help  or 
a  hinderance.  She  was  a  disciple  of  the  light*  and 
was  well  aware  that  she  must  resolutely  dwell  in  its 
full  effulgence  in  order  to  escape  from  the  blight 
ing  shadow  of  a  life-long  disappointment.  Thus  she 
sought  to  make  her  home,  not  gay  or  gaudy, — not 
a  brilliant  mockery  of  her  sorrow,  which  she  had 
learned  to  calmly  recognize  as  one  might  a  village 
cemetery  in  a  sunny  landscape, — but  cheerful  and 
lightsome  like  this  April  morning,  which  looked  in 
through  the  curtained  windows  of  Haldane's  apart 
ment,  and  found  every  thing  in  harmony  with  itself 
save  the  occupant. 

And  yet  he  was  young  and  in  his  spring-time. 
Why  should  he  make  discord  with  the  bright  fresh 
morning?  Because  the  shadow  of  evil — which  is 


120    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

darker  than  the  shadow  of  night,  age,  or  sorrow — 
rested  upon  him.  His  hair  hung  in  disorder  over  a 
brow  which  was  contracted  into  a  frown.  His  na 
turally  fine  features  had  a  heavy,  bloated,  sensual 
aspect ;  and  yet,  even  while  he  slept,  you  caught  3 
glimpse  in  this  face — as  through  a  vail — of  the  an 
guish  of  a  spirit  that  was  suffering  brutal  wrong  and 
violence. 

His  insensibility  was  passing  away.  His  mind  ap 
peared  to  be  struggling  to  cast  off  the  weight  of  a 
stupefied  body,  but  for  a  time  its  throes — which 
were  manifested  by  starts,  strong  shudderings,  and 
muttered  words — were  ineffectual.  At  last,  in  des 
peration,  as  it  were,  the  tortured  soul,  poisoned 
even  in  its  imaginings  by  the  impurity  of  the  lower 
nature,  conjured  up  such  a  horrid  vision  that  in  its 
anguish  it-  broke  its  chains,  threw  off  the  crushing 
weight,  and  the  young  man  started  up. 

This  returning  consciousness  had  not  been,  like 
the  dawn  stealing  in  at  his  window,  followed  by  a 
burst  of  sunlight.  As  the  morning  enters  the  stained, 
foul,  dingy  places  of  dissipation,  which  early  in  the 
evening  had  been  the  gas-lighted,  garish  scenes  of 
riot  and  senseless  laughter,  and  later  the  fighting 
ground  of  all  the  vile  vermin  of  the  night  with  their 
uncanny  noises, — as  when,  the  doors  and  windows 
having  been  at  last  opened,  the  light  struggles  in 
through  stale  tobacco-smoke,  revealing  dimly  a  dis 
colored,  reeking  place,  whose  sights  and  odors  are 
more  in  harmony  with  the  sewer  than  the  sweet 
April  sunshine  and  the  violets  opening  on  southern 
slopes, — so  when  reason  and  memory,  the  janitors  of 


RETURNING  CONSCIOUSNESS.  121 

the  mind,  first  admitted  the  light  of  consciousness, 
only  the  obscure  outline  of  miserable  feelings  and 
repulsive  events  were  manifest  to  Haldane's  intro 
spection. 

There  was  a  momentary  relief  at  finding  that  the 
horrible  dream  which  had  awakened  him  was  only  a 
dream,  but  while  his  waking  banished  the  uncouth 
shapes  of  the  imagination,  his  sane,  will-guided 
vision  saw  revealed  that  from  which  he  shrank  with 
far  greater  dread. 

For  a  few  moments,  as  he  stared  vacantly  around 
the  room,  he  could  realize  nothing  save  a  dull,  lead 
en  weight  of  pain.  In  this  dreary  obscurity  of  suf 
fering,  distinct  causes  of  trouble  and  fear  began  to 
shape  themselves.  There  was  a  mingled  sense  of 
misfortune  and  guilt.  He  had  a  confused  memory 
of  a  great  disappointment,  and  he  knew  from  his 
condition  that  he  had  been  drinking. 

He  looked  at  himself — he  was  dressed.  There 
stood  his  muddy  boots — two  foul  blots  on  the  beauty 
and  cleanliness  of  the  room.  So  then  he  had  come, 
or  had  been  brought,  at  some  hour  during  the  night, 
to  the  house  of  his  stern  and  exacting  employer. 
Haldane  dismissed  the  thought  of  him  with  a  reck 
less  oath ;  but  his  face  darkened  with  anguish  as  he 
remembered  that  this  was  also  the  home  of  Mrs. 
Arnot,  who  had  been  so  kind,  and,  at  the  present 
time,  the  home  of  Laura  Romeyn  also. 

They  may  have  seen,  or,  at  least,  must  know  of, 
his  degradation. 

He  staggered  to  the  ewer,  and,  with  a  trembling 
hand,  poured  out  a  little  water.  Having  bathed  his 
6 


122     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

hot,  feverish  face,  he  again  sat  down,  and  tried  ID 
recall  what  had  happened. 

In  bitterness  of  heart  he  remembered  his  last 
interview  with  Laura,  and  her  repugnance  toward 
both  himself  and  what  she  regarded  as  "  his  disgust 
ing  vices,"  and  so  disgusting  did  his  evil  courses 
now  seem  that,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he 
thought  of  himself  with  loathing. 

Then,  as  memory  rapidly  duplicated  subsequent 
events,  he  gave  a  contemptuous  smile  to  his  "  gloomy 
grandeur"  schemes  in  passing,  and  saw  himself  on 
the  way  to  New  York,  with  one  thousand  dollars  of 
his  employer's  funds  intrusted  to  his  care.  He  re 
membered  that  he  was  introduced  to  two  fascinat 
ing  strangers,  that  they  drank  and  lunched  together, 
that  they  missed  the  train,  that  they  were  gambling, 
that,  having  lost  all  his  own  money,  he  was  tempted  to 
open  a  package  belonging  to  Mr.  Arnot ;  did  he  not 
open  the  other  also  ?  At  this  point  all  became  con 
fused  and  blurred. 

What  had  become  of  that  money? 

With  nervous,  trembling  haste  he  searched  his 
pockets.  Both  the  money  and  the  envelopes  were 
gone. 

His  face  blanched ;  his  heart  sank  with  a  certain 
foreboding  of  evil.  He  found  himself  on  the  brink 
of  an  abyss,  and  felt  the  ground  crumbling  beneath 
1  him.  First  came  a  mad  impulse  to  fly,  to  escape 
and  hide  himself;  and  he  had  almost  carried  it  out. 
His  hand  was  on  the  door,  but  he  hesitated,  turned 
back,  and  walked  the  floor  in  agony. 

Then  came  the  better  impulse  of  one  as  yet  un- 


RETURNING  CONSCIOUSNESS. 


I23 


hardened  in  the  ways  of  evil,  to  go  at  once  to  his 
employer,  tell  the  whole  truth,  and  make  such  rep 
aration  as  was  within  his  power.  He  knew  that  his 
mother  was  abundantly  able  to  pay  back  the  money, 
and  he  believed  she  would  do  so. 

This  he  conceded  was  his  best,  and,  indeed,  only 
safe  course,  and  he  hoped  that  the  wretched  affair 
might  be  so  arranged  as  to  be  kept  hidden  from  the 
world.  As  for  Mrs.  Arnot  and  Laura,  he  felt  that 
he  could  never  look  them  in  the  face  again. 

Suppose  he  should  meet  them  going  out.  The 
very  thought  was  dreadful,  and  it  seemed  to  him 
that  he  would  sink  to  the  floor  from  shame  under 
their  reproachful  eyes.  Would  they  be  up  yet  ? 
He  looked  at  his  watch  ;  it  had  run  down,  and  its 
motionless  hands  pointed  at  the  vile,  helpless  con 
dition  in  which  he  must  have  been  at  the  time 
when  he  usually  wound  it  up. 

He  glanced  from  the  window,  with  the  hope  of 
escaping  the  two  human  beings  whom  he  dreaded 
more  than  the  whole  mocking  world  ;  but  it  was  too 
lofty  to  admit  of  a  leap  to  the  ground. 

"Who  is  yonder  strange  man  that  seems  to  be 
watching  the  house  ?  "  he  queried. 

Was  it  his  shaken  nerves  and  sense  of  guilt  which 
led  him  to  suspect  danger  and  trouble  on  every 
side? 

"  There  is  no  help  for  it,"  he  exclaimed,  grinding 
his  teeth  ;  and,  opening  the  door,  he  hastened  from 
the  house,  looking  neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  to 
the  left. 


124    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

HALDANE   IS  ARRESTED. 

AS  Haldane  strode  rapidly  along  the  winding, 
graveled  path  that  led  from  Mrs.  Arnot's  beau 
tiful  suburban  villa  to  the  street,  he  started  violently 
as  he  encountered  a  stranger,  who  appeared  to  be 
coming  toward  the  mansion  ;  and  he  was  greatly  re 
lieved  when  he  was  permitted  to  pass  unmolested. 
And  yet  the  cool  glance  of  scrutiny  which  he  re 
ceived  left  a  very  unpleasant  impression.  Nor  was 
this  uneasiness  diminished  when,  on  reaching  the 
street,  he  found  that  the  stranger  had  apparently 
accomplished  his  errand  to  the  house  so  speedily 
that  he  was  already  returning,  and  accompanied  by 
another  man. 

Were  not  their  eyes  fixed  on  him,  or  was  he  mis 
led  by  his  fears?  After  a  little  time  he  looked 
around  again.  One  of  the  men  had  disappeared, 
and  he  breathed  more  fully.  No  ;  there  he  was  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  and  walking  steadily 
abreast  with  him,  while  his  companion  continued  fol 
lowing  about  the  same  distance  away. 

Was  he  "shadowed"?  He  was,  indeed,  literally 
and  figuratively.  Although  the  sun  was  shining 
bright  and  warm,  never  before  had  he  been  conscious 


HALDANE  IS  ARRESTED. 


125 


of  such  a  horror  of  great  darkness.  The  light  which 
can  banish  the  oppressive,  disheartening  shadow  of 
guilt  must  come  from  beyond  the  sun. 

As  he  entered  the  busier  streets  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  office,  he  saw  a  few  persons  whom  he  knew. 
Was  he  again  misled  by  his  overwrought  and  ner 
vous  condition  ?  or  did  these  persons  try  to  shun 
him  by  turning  corners,  entering  shops,  or  by  cross 
ing  the  street,  and  looking  resolutely  the  other 
way. 

Could  that  awful  entity,  the  world,  already  know 
the  events  of  the  past  night  ? 

A  newsboy  was  vociferating  down  a  side  street. 
Only  the  word  "  Crime"  caught  Haldane's  ear,  but 
the  effect  was  as  cold  and  as  chilling  as  the  drip  of  an 
icicle. 

As  he  hastened  up  the  office  steps,  Pat  M'Cabe 
scowled  upon  him,  and  muttered  audibly, 

"Bad  luck  till  yees !  I  wish  I'd  lift  ye  ablinkin' 
like  an  owl  where  I  found  ye." 

"  An'  bad  luck  till  yees,  too,"  added  Pat  in  his 
surly  growl,  as  a  reporter,  note-book  in  hand,  stepped 
nimbly  in  after  Haldane  ;  "  it's  meself  that  wishes 
iviry  iditer  o'  the  land  was  burned  up  wid  his  own 
lyin'  papers." 

Even  the  most  machine-like  of  the  sere  and  with 
ered  book-keepers  held  their  pens  in  suspense  as 
Haldane  passed  hastily  toward  Mr.  Arnot's  private 
office,  followed  by  the  reporter,  whose  alert  manner 
and  observant,  questioning  eye  suggested  an  ani 
mated  symbol  of  interrogation. 

The   manner  of  his  fellow  clerks  did  not  escape 


126        KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Haldane's  notice  even  in  that  confused  and  hurried 
moment,  and  it  increased  his  sense  of  an  impending 
blow  ;  but  when,  on  entering  the  private  office,  Mr. 
Arnot  turned  toward  him  his  grim,  rigid  face,  and 
when  a  man  in  the  uniform  of  an  officer  of  the  law 
rose  and  stepped  forward  as  if  the  one  expected  had 
now  arrived,  his  heart  misgave  him  utterly,  and  for 
a  moment  he  found  no  words,  but  stood  before  his 
employer,  pallid  and  trembling,  his  very  attitude 
and  appearance  making  as  full  a  confession  of  guilt 
as  could  the  statement  he  proposed  to  give. 

If  Pat's  opinion  concerning  Mr.  Arnot's  "  in'ards" 
had  not  been  substantially  correct,  that  inexorable 
man  would  have  seen  that  this  was  not  an  old  of 
fender  who  stood  before  him.  The  fact  that  Hal- 
dane  was  overwhelmed  with  shame  and  fear,  should 
have  tempered  his  course  with  healing  and  saving 
kindness.  But  Mr.  Arnot  had  already  decfded  upon 
his  plan,  and  no  other  thought  would  occur  to  him 
save  that  of  carrying  it  out  with  machine-like  pre 
cision.  His  frown  deepened  as  he  saw  the  reporter, 
but  after  a  second's  thought  he  made  no  objection 
to  his  presence,  as  the  increasing  publicity  that 
would  result  would  add  to  the  punishment  which  was 
designed  to  be  a  signal  warning  to  all  in  his  employ. 

After  a  moment's  lowering  scrutiny  of  the  trem 
bling  youth,  during  which  his  confidential  clerk,  by 
previous  arrangement,  appeared,  that  he  might  be  a 
witness  of  all  that  occurred,  Mr.  Arnot  said  coldly, 

"Well,  sir,  perhaps  you  can  now  tell  me  what  has 
become  of  the  funds  which  I  intrusted  to  your  care 
last  evening." 


HALDANE  IS  ARRESTED. 


127 


"That  is  my  purpose — object,"  stammered  Hal- 
dane ;  "if  you  will  only  give  me  a  chance  I  will  tell 
you  every  thing." 

"  I  am  ready  to  hear,  sir.  Be  brief;  business  has 
suffered  too  great  an  interruption  already." 

"  Please  have  a  little  consideration  for  me,"  said 
Haldane,  eagerly,  great  beaded  drops  of  perspiration 
starting  from  his  brow  ;  "  I  do  not  wish  to  speak  be 
fore  all  these  witnesses.  Give  me  a  private  interview, 
and  I  will  explain  every  thing,  and  can  promise  that 
the  money  shall  be  refunded." 

"  I  shall  make  certain  of  that,  rest  assured,"  replied 
Mr.  Arnot,  in  the  same  cold,  relentless  tone.  "  The 
money  was  intrusted  to  your  care  last  evening,  in  the 
presence  of  witnesses.  Here  are  the  empty  envelopes. 
If  you  have  any  explanations  to  make  concerning 
what  you  did  with  the  money,  speak  here  and  now." 

"I  must  warn  the  young  man,"  said  the  police 
man,  interposing,  "  not  to  say  any  thing  which  will 
tend  to  criminate  himself.  He  must  remember  that 
whatever  he  says  will  appear  against  him  in  evi 
dence." 

"  But  there  is  no  need  that  this  affair  should  have 
any  such  publicity,"  Haldane  urged  in  great  agita 
tion.  "  If  Mr.  Arnot  will  only  show  a  little  human 
ity  toward  me  I  will  arrange  the  matter  so  that  he 
will  not  lose  a  penny.  Indeed,  my  mother  will 
pay  twice  the  sum  rather  than  have  the  affair  get 
abroad." 

The  reporter  just  behind  him  grinned  and  lifted 
his  eyebrows  as  he  took  down  these  words  verbatim. 

"  For  your  mother's  sake  I  deeply  regret  that  '  the 


128     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

affair/  as  you  mildly  term  it,  must  and  has  become 
known.  As  far  as  you  are  concerned,  I  have  no 
compunctions.  When  a  seeming  man  can  commit  a 
grave  crime  in  the  hope  that  a  widowed  mother — • 
whose  stay  and  pride  he  ought  to  be — will  come  to 
his  rescue,  and  buy  immunity  from  deserved  punish 
ment,  he  neither  deserves,  nor  shall  he  receive,  mercy 
at  my  hands.  But  were  I  capable  of  a  maudlin  sen 
timent  of  pity  in  the  circumstances,  the  duty  I  owe 
my  business  would  prevent  any  such  expression  as 
you  desire.  When  any  one  in  my  employ  takes  ad 
vantage  of  my  confidence,  he  must  also,  and  with 
absolute  certainty,  take  the  consequences." 

"Bad  luck  ter  yez ! "  mentally  ejaculated  Pat, 
whom  curiosity  and  the  fascination  of  his  own  im 
pending  fate  had  drawn  within  earshot. 

"What  do  you  intend  to  do  with  me?"  asked 
Haldane,  his  brow  contracting,  and  his  face  growing 
sullen  under  Mr.  Arnot's  harsh,  bitter  words. 

"  Do  !  What  is  done  with  clerks  who  steal  their 
employers'  money?" 

"  I  did  not  steal  your  money,"  said  Haldane  im 
petuously. 

"  Where  is  it,  then  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Arnot,  with  a  cold 
sneer. 

"  Be  careful,  now,"  said  the  policeman  ;  "  you  are 
getting  excited,  and  you  may  say  what  you'll  wish 
you  hadn't." 

"  Mr.  Arnot,  do  you  mean  to  have  it  go  abroad  to 
all  the  world  that  I  have  deliberately  stolen  that 
thousand  dollars?"  asked  the  young  man  despe 
rately. 


HALDANE  IS  A RRES TED.  1 2 9 

"  Here  are  the  empty  envelopes.  Where  is  the 
money?"  said  his  employer,  in  the  same  cool,  inex 
orable  tone. 

"  I  met  two  sharpers  from  New  York,  who  made  a 
fool  of  me—" 

"  Made  a  fool  of  you  !  that  was  impossible,"  inter 
rupted  Mr.  Arnot  with  a  harsh  laugh. 

"  Dastard  that  you  are,  to  strike  a  man  when  he 
is  down,"  thundered  Haldane  wrathfully.  "Since 
every  thing  must  go  abroad,  the  truth  shall  go,  and 
not  foul  slander.  I  got  to  drinking  with  these  men 
from  New  York,  and  missed  the  train — " 

"Be  careful,  now;  think  what  you  are  saying,"  in 
terrupted  the  policeman. 

"  He  charges  me  with  what  amounts  to  a  bald  theft, 
and  in  a  way  that  all  will  hear  of  the  charge,  and 
shall  I  not  defend  myself?  " 

"  O,  certainly,  if  you  can  prove  that  you  did  not 
take  the  money — only  remember,  what  you  say  will 
appear  in  the  evidence." 

"  What  evidence  ?  "  cried  the  bewildered  and  ex 
cited  youth  with  an  oath.  "  If  you  will  only  give  me 
a  chance,  you  shall  have  all  the  evidence  there  is  in  a 
sentence.  These  blacklegs  from  New  York  appeared 
like  gentlemen.  A  friend  in  town  introduced  them 
to  me,  and,  after  losing  the  train,  we  agreed  to  spend 
the  evening  together.  They  called  for  cards,  and 
they  won  the  money." 

Mr.  Arnot's  dark  cheek  had  grown  more  swarthy 
at   the   epithet  of  "dastard,"   but  he   coolly  waited 
until  Haldane  had  finished,  and  then  asked  in  his 
former  tone, 
6* 


130    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Did  they  take  the  money  from  your  person  and 
open  the  envelopes,  one  carefully,  the  other  reckless 
ly,  before  they  won  it?  " 

Guided  by  this  keen  questioning,  memory  flashed 
back  its  light  on  the  events  of  the  past  night,  and 
Haldane  saw  himself  opening  the  first  package,  cer 
tainly,  and  he  remembered  how  it  was  done.  He 
trembled,  and  his  face,  that  had  been  so  flushed, 
grew  very  pale.  For  a  moment  he  was  so  over 
whelmed  by  a  realization  of  his  act,  and  its  threaten 
ing  consequences,  that  his  tongue  refused  to  plead 
in  his  behalf.  At  last  he  stammered, 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  take  the  money — only  to  bor 
row  a  little  of  it,  and  return  it  that  same  night.  They 
got  me  drunk — I  was  not  myself.  But  I  assure  you 
it  will  all  be  returned.  I  can — " 

"Officer,  do  your  duty,"  interrupted  Mr.  Arnot 
sternly.  "Too  much  time  has  been  wasted  over  the 
affair  already,  but  out  of  regard  for  his  mother  I 
wished  to  give  this  young  man  an  opportunity  to 
make  an  exculpating  explanation  or  excuse,  if  it 
were  in  his  power.  Since,  according  to  his  own 
statement,  he  is  guilty ;  the  law  must  take  its  course." 

"You  don't  mean  to  send  me  to  prison  ?"  asked 
Haldane  excitedly. 

"I  could  never  send  you  to  prison,"  replied  Mr. 
Arnot  coldly ;  *'  your  own  act  may  bring  you  there. 
But  I  do  mean  to  send  you  before  the  justice  who 
issued  the  warrant  for  your  arrest,  held  by  this  of 
ficer.  Unless  you  can  find  some  one  who  will  give 
bail  in  your  behalf,  I  do  not  see  why  he  should  treat 
you  differently  from  other  offenders." 


HALDANE  IS  ARRESTED.  !3! 

"  Mr.  Arnot,"  cried  Haldane  passionately,  "this 
is  my  first  and  only  offense.  You  surely  cannot  be 
so  cold-blooded  as  to  inflict  upon  me  this  irreparable 
disgrace  ?  It  will  kill  my  mother." 

"  You  should  have  thought  of  all  this  last  even 
ing,"  said  Mr.  Arnot.  "  If  you  persist  in  ignoring 
the  fact,  that  it  is  your  own  deed  that  wounds  your 
mother  and  inflicts  disgrace  upon  yourself,  the  world 
will  not.  Come,  Mr.  Officer,  serve  your  warrant,  and 
remove  your  prisoner." 

"  Is  it  your  purpose  that  I  shall  be  dragged 
through  these  streets  in  the  broad  light  of  day  to 
a  police  court,  and  thence  to  jail  ? "  demanded 
Haldane,  a  dark  menace  coming  into  his  eyes-,  and 
finding  expression  in  his  livid  face. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  man  of  business,  rising  and 
speaking  in  loud,  stern  tones,  so  that  all  in  the  office 
could  hear;  "  I  mean  that  you  and  any  one  else  in 
my  employ  who  abuses  my  trust  and  breaks  the  laws 
shall  suffer  their  full  penalty." 

"  You  are  a  hard-hearted  \vretch !  "  thundered 
Haldane;  "you  are  a  pagan  idolater,  and  gold  is 
your  god.  You  crush  your  wife  and  servants  at 
home;  you  crush  the  spirit  and  manhood  of  your 
clerks  here  by  your  cast-iron  system  and  rules.  If 
you  had  shown  a  little  consideration  for  me  you 
would  have  lost  nothing,  and  I  might  have  had  a 
chance  for  a  better  life.  But  you  tread  me  down  into 
the  mire  of  the  streets ;  you  make  it  impossible 
for  me  to  appear  among  decent  men  again  ;  you 
strike  my  mother  and  sisters  as  with  a  dagger. 
Curse  you  !  if  I  go  to  jail,  it  will  require  you  and  all 


132     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

your  clerks  to  take  me  there !  "  and  he  whirled  on 
his  heel,  and  struck  out  recklessly  toward  the  door. 

The  busy  reporter  was  capsized  by  the  first  blow, 
and  his  nose  long  bore  evidence  that  it  is  a  serious 
matter  to  put  that  member  into  other  people's  affairs, 
even  in  a  professional  way. 

Before  Haldane  could  pass  from  the  inner  office 
two  strangers,  who  had  been  standing  quietly  at  the 
door,  each  dexterously  seized  one  of  his  hands  with 
such  an  iron  grasp  that,  after  a  momentary  struggle,  he 
gave  up,  conscious  of  the  hopelessness  of  resistance. 

"  If  you  will  go  quietly  with  us  we  will  employ  no 
force,"  said  the  man  in  uniform ;  "  otherwise  we 
must  use  these;'-'  and  Haldane  shuddered  as  light 
steel  manacles  were  produced.  "  These  men  are 
officers  like  myself,  and  you  see  that  you  stand  no 
chance  with  three  of  us." 

"  Well,  lead  on,  then,"  was  the  sullen  answer.  "  I 
will  go  quietly  if  you  don't  use  those,  but  if  you  do, 
I  will  not  yield  while  there  is  a  breath  of  life  in  me." 

"  A  most  desperate  and  hardened  wretch  !  "  ejacu 
lated  the  reporter,  sopping  his  streaming  nose. 

With  a  dark  look  and  deep  malediction  upon  his 
employer,  Haldane  was  led  away. 

Mr.  Arnot  was  in  no  gentle  mood,  for,  while  he 
had  carried  out  his  programme,  the  machinery  of 
the  legal  process  had  not  worked  smoothly.  Very 
disagreeable  things  had  been  said  to  him  in  the  hear 
ing  of  his  clerks  and  others.  "  Of  course,  they  are 
not  true,"  thought  the  gentleman  ;  "  but  his  insolent 
words  will  go  out  in  the  accounts  of  the  affair  as 
surely  as  my  own." 


HALDANE  IS  ARRESTED.  133 

If  Haldane  had  been  utterly  overwhelmed  and 
broken  down,  and  had  shown  only  the  cringing  spirit 
of  a  detected  and  whipped  cur,  Mr.  Arnot's  compla 
cency  would  have  been  perfect  ;  but  as  it  was,  the 
affair  had  gone  forward  in  a  jarring,  uncomfortable 
manner,  which  annoyed  and  irritated*  him  as  would 
a  defective,  creaking  piece  of  mechanism  in  one  of 
his  factories.  Opposition,  friction  of  any  kind,  only 
made  his  imperious  will  more  intolerant  of  disobe 
dience  or  neglect ;  therefore  he  summoned  Pat  in  a 
tone  whose  very  accent  foretold  the  doom  of  the 
"  intelligent  Irishman." 

"  Did  I  not  order  you  to  give  no  information  to 
any  one  concerning  what  occurred  last  night?"  he 
demanded  in  his  sternest  tone. 

Pat  hitched  and  wriggled,  for  giving  up  his  forty 
dollars  a  month  was  like  a  surgical  operation.  He 
saw  that  his  master  was  incensed,  and  in  no  mood 
for  extenuation  ;  so  he  pleaded — 

"  Misther  Arnot,  won't  ye  plaze  slape  on  it  afore 
ye  gives  me  me  discharge.  If  ye'll  only  think  a  bit 
about  them  newspaper  men,  ye'll  know  it  could  not 
be  helped  a'  tall.  If  they  suspicion  that  a  man  has 
any  thing  in  him  that  they're  wantin'  to  know,  they 
the  same  as  put  a  corkscrew  intil  him,  and  pull  till 
somethin'  comes,  and  thin  they  make  up  the  rest. 
Faix,  sur,  I  niver  could  o'  got  by  'em  aloive  wid  me 
letther  onless  a  little  o'  the  news  had  gone  intil  their 
rav'nous  maws." 

"  Then  I'll  find  a  man  who  can  get  by  them,  and  who 
is  able  to  obey  my  orders  to  the  letter.  The  cashier 
will  pay  you  up  to  date;  then  leave  the  premises." 


134      KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Och,  Misther  Arnot,  me  woife  '11  be  the  death  o' 
me,  and  thin  ye'll  have  me  bluid  on  yer  sowl.  Give 
me  one  more — " 

"  Begone  !  "  said  his  employer  harshly ;  "  too  much 
time  has  been  wasted  already." 

Pat  found  that  his  case  was  so  desperate  that  he 
became  reckless,  and,  instead  of  slinking  off,  he,  too, 
showed  the  same  insubordination  and  disregard  for 
Mr.  Arnot's  power  and  dignity  that  had  been  so 
irritating  in  Haldane.  Clapping  his  hat  on  one  side 
of  his  head,  and  with  such  an  insolent  cant  forward 
that  it  quite  obscured  his  left  eye,  Pat  rested  his 
hands  on  his  hips,  and  with  one  foot  thrust  out  side 
ways,  he  fixed  his  right  eye  on  his  employer  with 
the  expression  of  sardonic  contemplation,  and  then 
delivered  himself  as  follows  : 

"The  takin'  up  a  few  minits  o'  yer  toime  is  a 
moighty  tirrible  waste,  but  the  sindin'  of  a  human 
bain  to  the  divil  is  no  waste  a'  tall  a'  tall :  that's  the 
way  ye  rason,  is  it?  I  allers  heerd  that  yer  in'ards 
were  made  o'  cast  iron,  and  I  can  belave — " 

"  Leave  this  office,"  thundered  Mr.  Arnot. 

11  Begorry,  ye  can't  put  a  man  in  jail  for  spakin' 
his  moind,  nor  for  spakin'  the  truth.  If  ye  had 
given  me  a  chance  I'd  been  civil  and  obadient  the 
rist  o'  me  days.  But  whin  ye  act  to'ard  a  man  as  if 
he  was  a  lump  o'  dirt  that  ye  can  kick  out  o'  the  way, 
and  go  on,  ye'll  foind  that  the  lump  o'  dirt  will  lave 
some  marks  on  yer  nice  clothes.  I  tell  ye  till  yer 
flinty  ould  face  that  ye'r  a  hard-hearted  riprobate 
that  'ud  grind  a  poor  divil  to  paces  as  soon  as  any 
mash-shine  in  all  yer  big  factories.  Ye'll  see  the  day 


HALDANE  IS  ARRESTED.  ^5 

whin  ye'll  be  under  somebody's  heel  yerself,  bad 
luck  to  yez  !  " 

Pat's  irate  volubility  flowed  in  such  a  torrent  that 
even  Mr.  Arnot  could  not  check  it  until  he  saw  fit 
to  drop  the  sluice-gates  himself,  which,  with  a  con 
temptuous  sniff,  and  an  expression  'of  concentrated 
wormwood  and  gall,  he  now  did.  Lifting  his  bat 
tered  hat  a  little  more  toward  the  perpendicular,  he 
went  to  the  cashier's  desk,  obtained  his  money,  and 
then  jogged  slowly  and  aimlessly  down  the  street, 
leaving  a  wake  of  strange  oaths  behind  him. 

Thus  Mr.  Arnot's  system  again  ground  out  the 
expected  result;  but  the  plague  of  humanity  was 
that  it  would  not  endure  the  grinding  process  with 
the  same  stolid,  inert  helplessness  of  other  raw  ma 
terial.  Though  he  had  had  his  way  in  each  instance, 
he  grew  more  and  more  dissatisfied  and  out  of  sorts. 
This  vituperation  of  himself  would  not  tend  to  im 
press  his  employes  with  awe,  and  strike  a  wholesome 
fear  in  their  hearts.  The  culprits,  instead  of  slink 
ing  away  overwhelmed  with  guilt  and  the  weight  of 
his  displeasure,  had  acted  and  spoken  as  if  he  were 
a  grim  old  tyrant ;  and  he  had  a  vague,  uncomforta 
ble  feeling  that  his  clerks  in  their  hearts  sided  with 
them  and  against  him.  It  even  occurred  to  him 
that  he  was  creating  a  relation  between  himself  and 
those  in  his  service  similar  to  that  existing  between 
master  and  slaves ;  and  that,  instead  of  forming  a 
community  with  identical  interests,  he  was  on  one 
side  and  they  on  the  other.  But,  with  the  infatua 
tion  of  a  selfish  nature  and  imperious  will,  he  mut 
tered  : 


136      KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

11  Curse  them  !  I'll  make  them  move  in  my  grooves, 
or  toss  them  out  of  the  way!  "  Then,  summoning 
his  confidential  clerk,  he  said : 

4<  You  know  all  about  the  affair.  You  will  oblige 
me  by  going  to  the  office  of  the  justice,  and  stating 
the  case,  with  the  prisoner's  admissions.  I  do  not 
care  to  appear  further  in  the  matter,  except  by 
proxy,  unless  it  is  necessary." 


A  MEMORABLE  MEETING. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

A  MEMORABLE   MEETING. 

MRS.  ARNOT  had  looked  upon  Haldane's  deg 
radation  with  feelings  akin  to  disgust  and  an 
ger,  but  as  long,  sleepless  hours  passed,  her  thoughts 
grew  more  gentle  and  compassionate.  She  was  by 
nature  an  advocate  rather  than  a  judge.  Not  the 
spirit  of  the  disciples,  that  would  call  down  fire  from 
heaven,  but  the  spirit  of  the  Master,  who  sought  to 
lay  his  healing,  rescuing  hand  on  every  lost  creature, 
always  controlled  her  eventually.  Human  desert  did 
not  count  as  much  with  her  as  human  need,  and  her 
own  sorrows  had  made  her  heart  tender  toward  the 
sufferings  of  others,  even  though  well  merited. 

The  prospect  that  the  handsome  youth,  the  son 
of  her  old  friend,  would  cast  himself  down  to  perish 
in  the  slough  of  dissipation,  was  a  tragedy  that 
wrung  her  heart  with  grief;  and  when  at  last  she 
fell  asleep  it  was  with  tears  upon  her  face. 

Forebodings  had  followed  Laura  also,  even  into 
her  dreams,  and  at  last,  in  a  frightful  vision,  she  saw 
her  uncle  placing  a  giant  on  guard  over  the  house. 
Her  uncle  had  scarcely  disappeared  before  Haldane 
tried  to  escape,  but  the  giant  raised  his  mighty 
club,  as  large  and  heavy  as  the  mast  of  a  ship,  and 


138      KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

was  about  to  strike  when  she  awoke  with  a  violent 
start. 

In  strange  unison  with  her  dream  she  still  heard 
her  uncle's  voice  in  the  garden  below.  She  sprang 
to  the  window,  half  expecting  to  see  the  giant  also, 
nor  was  she  greatly  reassured  on  observing  an  un 
known  man  posted  in  the  summer-house  and  left 
there.  Mr.  Arnot's  mysterious  action,  and  the  fact 
that  he  was  out  at  that  early  hour,  added  to  the  dis 
quiet  of  mind  which  the  events  of  the  preceding 
night  had  created. 

Her  simple  home-life  had  hitherto  flowed  like  a 
placid  stream  in  sunny  meadows,  but  now  it  seemed 
as  if  the  stream  were  entering  a  forest  where  dark 
and  ominous  shadows  were  thrown  across  its  surface. 
She  was  too  womanly  to  be  indifferent  to  the  fate  of 
any  human  being.  At  the  same  time  she  was  still 
so  much  of  a  child,  and  so  ignorant  of  the  world, 
that  Haldane's  action,  even  as  she  understood  it, 
loomed  up  before  her  imagination  as  something  aw 
ful  and  portentous  of  unknown  evils.  She  was  op 
pressed  with  a  feeling  that  a  crushing  blow  impended 
'over  him.  Now,  almost  as  vividly  as  in  her  dream, 
she  still  saw  the  giant's  club  raised  high  to  strike. 
If  it  were  only  in  a  fairy  tale,  her  sensitive  spirit 
would  tremble  at  such  a  stroke,  but  inasmuch  as  it 
was  falling  on  one  who  had  avowed  passionate  love 
for  her,  she  felt  almost  as  if  she  must  share  in  its 
weight.  The  idea  of  reciprocating  any  feeling  that 
resembled  his  passion  had  at  first  been  absurd,  and 
now,  in  view  of  what  he  had  shown  himself  capable, 
seemed  impossible ;  and  yet  his  strongly-expressed 


A  MEMORABLE    MEETING.  ^9 

regard  for  her  created  a  sort  of  bond  between  them 
in  spite  of  herself.  She  had  realized  the  night  be 
fore  that  he  would  be  immediately  dismissed  and 
sent  home  in  disgrace;  but  her  dream,  and  the 
glimpse  she  had  caught  of  her  uncle  and  the  obser 
vant  stranger,  who,  as  she  saw,  still  maintained  his 
position,  suggested  worse  consequences,  whose  very 
vagueness  made  them  all  the  more  dreadful. 

As  it  was  still  a  long  time  before  the  breakfast 
hour,  she  again  sought  her  couch,  and  after  a  while 
fell  into  a  troubled  sleep,  from  which  she  was  awak 
ened  by  her  aunt.  Hastily  dressing,  she  joined  Mrs. 
Arnot  at  a  late  breakfast,  and  soon  discovered  that 
she  was  worried  and  anxious  as  well  as  herself. 

"  Has  Mr.  Haldane  gone  out?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes  ;  and  what  perplexes  me  is  that  two  stran 
gers  followed  him  to  the  street  so  rapidly  that  they 
almost  seemed  in  pursuit." 

Then  Laura  related  what  she  had  seen,  and  her 
aunt's  face  grew  pale  and  somewhat  rigid  as  she  rec 
ognized  the  fact  that  her  husband  was  carrying  out 
some  plan,  unknown  to  her,  which  might  involve  a 
cruel  blow  to  her  friend,  Mrs.  Haldane,  and  an  over 
whelming  disgrace  to  Egbert  Haldane.  At  the  same 
time  the  thought  flashed  upon  her  that  the  young 
man's  offense  might  be  graver  than  she  had  supposed. 
But  she  only  remarked  quietly, 

"  I  will  go  down  to  the  office  and  see  your  uncle 
after  breakfast." 

"  O  auntie,  please  let  me  go  with  you,"  said  Laura 
nervously. 

"  I  may  wish  to  see  my  husband  alone,"  replied 


140    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Mrs.  Arnot  doubtfully,  foreseeing  a  possible  inter 
view  which  she  would  prefer  her  niece  should  not 
witness. 

"  I  will  wait  for  you  in  the  outer  office,  auntie,  if 
you  will  only  let  me  go.  I  am  so  unstrung  that  I 
cannot  bear  to  be  left  in  the  house  alone." 

"  Very  well,  then ;  we'll  go  together,  and  a  walk  in 
the  open  air  will  do  us  both  good." 

As  Mrs.  Arnot  was  finishing  her  breakfast  she  list 
lessly  took  up  the  morning  Courier,  and  with  a  sud 
den  start  read  the  heavy  head-lines  and  paragraph 
which  Pat's  unlucky  venture  as  a  reporter  had  oc 
casioned. 

"  Come,  Laura,  let  us  go  at  once,"  said  she,  rising 
hastily;  and  as  soon  as  they  could  prepare  them 
selves  for  the  street  they  started  toward  the  cen 
tral  part  of  the  city,  each  too  busy  with  her  own 
thoughts  to  speak  often,  and  yet  each  having  a  grate 
ful  consciousness  of  unspoken  sympathy  and  com 
panionship. 

As  they  passed  down  the  .main  street  they  saw  a 
noisy  crowd  coming  up  the  sidewalk  toward  them, 
and  they  crossed  over  to  avoid  it.  But  the  approach 
ing  throng  grew  so  large  and  boisterous  that  they 
deemed  it  prudent  to  enter  the  open  door  of  a  shop 
until  it  passed.  Their  somewhat  elevated  position 
gave  them  a  commanding  view,  and  a  policeman's 
uniform  at  once  indicated  that  it  was  an  arrest  that 
had  drawn  together  the  loose  human  atoms  that  are 
always  drifting  about  the  streets.  The  prisoner  was 
followed  by  a  retinue  that  might  have  Sowed  the  head 
of  an  old  and  hardened  offender  with  shame, — rude, 


A  MEMORABLE  MEETING.  I4I 

idle,  half-grown  boys,  with  their  morbid  interest  in 
every  thing  tending  to  excitement  and  crime,  seedy 
loungers  drawn  away  from  saloon  doors,  where  they 
are  as  surely  to  be  found  as  certain  coarse  weeds  in 
foul,  neglected  corners — a  ragged,  unkempt,  repulsive 
jumble  of  humanity,  that  filled  the  street  with  gibes, 
slang,  and  profanity.  Laura  was  about  to  retreat 
into  the  shop  in  utter  disgust,  when  her  aunt  ex 
claimed  in  a  tone  of  sharp  distress, 

"  Merciful  Heaven  !  there  is  Egbert  Haldane  !  " 

With  something  like  a  shock  of  terror  she  recog 
nized  her  quondam  lover,  the  youth  who  had  stood  at 
her  side  and  turned  her  music.  But  as  she  saw  him 
now  there  appeared  an  immeasurable  gulf  between 
them  ;  while  her  pity  for  him  was  profound,  if  seemed 
as  helpless  and  hopeless  in  his  behalf  as  if  he  were  a 
guilty  spirit  that  was  being  dragged  away  to  final 
doom. 

Her  aunt's  startled  exclamation  caught  the  young 
man's  attention,  for  it  was  a  voice  that  he  would  de 
tect  among  a  thousand,  and  he  turned  his  livid  face, 
with  its  agonized,  hunted  look,  directly  toward  them. 

As  their  eyes  met — as  he  saw  the  one  of  all  the 
world  that  he  then  most  dreaded  to  meet,  Laura 
Romeyn,  regarding  him  with  a  pale,  frightened  face, 
as  if  he  were  a  monster,  a  wild  beast,  nay,  worse,  a 
common  thief  on  his  way  to  jail — he  stopped  abrupt 
ly,  and  for  a  second  seemed  to  meditate  some  des 
perate  act.  But  when  he  saw  the  rabble  closing  on 
him,  and  heard  the  officers  growl  in  surly  tones, 
"  Move  on,"  a  sense  of  helplessness  as  well  as  of 
shame  overwhelmed  him.  He  shivered  visibly, 


I42     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

dashed  his  hat*  down  over  his  eyes,  and  strode  on, 
feeling  at  last  that  the  obscurity  of  a  prison  cell 
would  prove  a  welcome  refuge. 

But  Mrs.  Arnot  had  recognized  the  intolerable 
suffering  and  humiliation  stamped  on  the  young 
man's  features;  she  had  seen  the  fearful,  shrinking 
gaze  at  herself  and  Laura,  the  lurid  gleam  of  des 
peration,  and  read  correctly  the  despairing  gesture 
by  which  he  sought  to  hide  from  them,  the  rabble, 
and  all  the  world,  a  countenance  from  which  he  al 
ready  felt  that  shame  had  blotted  all  trace  of  man 
hood. 

Her  face  again  wore  a  gray,  rigid  aspect,  as  if  she 
had  received  a  wound  that  touched  her  heart  ;  and, 
scarcely  waiting  for  the  miscellaneous  horde  to  pass, 
she  took  Laura's  arm,  and  said  briefly  and  almost 
sternly, 

"  Come." 

Mr.  Arnot's  equanimity  was  again  destined  to  be 
disturbed.  Until  he  had  commenced  to  carry  out  his 
scheme  of  striking  fear  into  the  hearts  of  his  employes, 
he  had  derived  much  grim  satisfaction  from  its  con 
templation  ;  but  never  had  a  severe  and  unrelenting 
policy  failed  more  signally,  and  a  partial  conscious 
ness  of  the  fact  annoyed  him  like  a  constant  stinging 
of  nettles  which  he  could  not  brush  aside.  When, 
therefore,  his  wife  entered,  he  greeted  her  with  his 
heaviest  frown,  and  a  certain  twitching  of  his  hands 
as  he  fumbled  among  his  papers,  which  showed 
that  the  man  who  at  times  seemed  composed  of 
equal  parts  of  iron  and  lead  had  at  last  reached  a 
condition  of  nervous  irritability  which  might  result 


A  MEMORABLE  MEETING.  I43 

in  an  explosion  of  wrath  ;  and  yet  he  made  a  despe 
rate  effort  at  self-control,  for  he  saw  that  his  wife  was 
in  one  of  those  moods  which  he  had  learned  to  regard 
with  a  wholesome  respect. 

"  You  have  sent  Haldane  to  prison/'  she  said 
calmly.  Though  her  tone  was  so  quiet,  there  was 
in  it  a  certain  depth  and  tremble  which  her  husband 
well  understood,  but  he  only  answered  briefly : 

"  Yes ;  he  must  go  there  if  he  finds  no  bail." 

"May  I  ask  why?" 

"  He  robbed  me  of  a  thousand  dollars." 

"Were  there  no  extenuating  circumstances?" 
Mrs.  Arnot  asked,  after  a  slight  start. 

"  No,  but  many  aggravating  ones." 

"  Did  he  not  come  here  of  his  own  accord?" 

"  He  could  not  have  done  otherwise.  I  had  detec 
tives  watching  him." 

"  He  could  have  tried  to  do  otherwise.  Did  he- 
not  offer  some  explanation  ?  " 

"  What  he  said  amounted  to  a  confession  of  the 
crime." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  I  have  not  charged  my  mind  with  all  the  rash, 
foolish  words  of  the  young  scapegrace.  It  is  suffi 
cient  for  me  that  he  and  all  in  my  employ  received 
a  lesson  which  they  will  not  soon  forget.  I  wish  you 
would  excuse  me  from  further  consideration  of  the 
subject  at  present.  It  has  cost  me  too  much  time 
already." 

"  You  are  correct,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot  very  quietly. 
"  It  is  likely  to  prove  a  very  costly  affair.  I  trem 
ble  to  think  what  your  lesson  may  cost  this  young 


144     ANIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

man,  whom  you  have  rendered  reckless  and  despe 
rate  by  this  public  disgrace ;  I  tremble  to  think  what 
this  event  may  cost  my  friend,  his  mother.  Of  the 
pain  it  has  cost  me  I  will  not  speak — " 

"  Madam,"  interrupted  Mr.  Arnot  harshly,  "  per 
mit  me  to  say  that  this  is  an  affair  concerning  which 
a  sentimental  woman  can  have  no  correct  under 
standing.  I  propose  to  carry  on  my  business  in  the 
way  which  experience  has  taught  me  is  wise,  and, 
with  all  respect  to  yourself,  I  would  suggest  that  in 
these  matters  of  business  I  am  in  my  own  province." 

The  ashen  hue  deepened  upon  Mrs.  Arnot's  face, 
but  she  answered  quietly  : 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  overstep  the  bounds  which 
should  justly  limit  my  action  and  my  interest  in  this 
matter.  You  will  also  do  me  the  justice  to  remem 
ber  that  I  have  never  interfered  in  your  business, 
.and  have  rarely  asked  you  about  it,  though  in  the 
world's  estimation  I  would  have  some  right  to  do  so. 
But  if  such  harshness,  if  such  disastrous  cruelty,  is 
necessary  to  your  business,  I  must  withdraw  my 
means  from  it,  for  I  could  not  receive  money  stained, 
as  it  were,  with  blood.  But  of  this  hereafter.  I 
will  now  telegraph  Mrs.  Haldane  to  come  directly 
to  our  house — " 

"To  our  house!"  cried  Mr.  Arnot,  perfectly 
aghast. 

"  Certainly.  Can  you  suppose  that,  burdened  with 
this  intolerable  disgrace,  she  could  endure  the  pub 
licity  of  a  hotel  ?  I  shall  next  visit  Haldane,  for  as 
I  saw  him  in  the  street,  with  the  rabble-  following, 
he  looked  desperate  enough  to  destroy  himself." 


.     A  MEMORABLE  MEETING.  145 

"  Now,  I  protest  against  all  this  weak  sentimen 
tality,"  said  Mr.  Arnot,  rising.  "You  take  sides 
with  a  robber  against  your  husband." 

"  I  do  not  make  light  of  Haldane's  offense  to  you, 
and  certainly  shall  not  to  him.  But  it  is  his  first  of 
fense,  as  far  as  we  know,  and,  though  you  have  not 
seen  fit  to  inform  me  of  the  circumstances,  I  cannot 
believe  that  he  committed  a  cool,  deliberate  theft. 
He  could  have  been  made  to  feel  his  guilt  without 
being  crushed.  The  very  gravity  of  his  wrong  ac 
tion  might  have  awakened  him  to  his  danger,  and 
have  been  the  turning-point  of  his  life.  He  should 
have  had  at  least  one  chance — God  gives  us  many." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Mr.  Arnot  impatiently,  "  let 
his  mother  return  the  money,  and  I  will  not  prose 
cute.  But  why  need  Mrs.  Haldane  come  to  Hilla- 
ton?  All  can  be  arranged  by  her  lawyer." 

"You  know  little  of  a  mother's  feelings  if  you  can 
suppose  she  will  not  come  instantly." 

"  Well,  then,  when  the  money  is  paid  she  can  take 
him  home,  that  is,  after  the  forms  of  law  are  com 
plied  with." 

"  But  he  must  remain  in.  prison  till  the  money  is 
paid?" 

"  Certainly." 

"You  intimated  that  if  any  one  went  bail  for  him 
he  need  not  go  to  prison.  I  will  become  his  se 
curity." 

"  O  nonsense !     I  might  as  well  give  bail  myself." 

"  Has  he  reached  the  prison  yet?  " 

"  I  suppose  he  has,"  replied  Mr.  Arnot,  taking 
care  to  give  no  hint  of  the  preliminary  examination, 
7 


146     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

for  it  would  have  annoyed  him  excessively  to  have 
his  wife  appear  at  a  police  court  almost  in  the  light 
of  an  antagonist  to  himself.  And  yet  his  stubborn 
pride  would  not  permit  him  to  yield,  and  carry  out 
with  considerate  delicacy  the  merciful  policy  upon 
which  he  saw  she  was  bent. 

"  Good  morning,"  said  his  wife  very  quietly,  and 
she  at  once  left  her  husband's  private  room.  Laura 
rose  from  her  chair  in  the  outer  office  and  welcomed 
her  gladly,  for,  in  her  nervous  trepidation,  the  min 
utes  had  seemed  like  hours.  Mrs.  Arnot  went  to  a 
telegraph  office,  and  sent  the  following  dispatch  to 
Mrs.  Haldane: 

"  Come  to  my  house  at  once.  Your  son  is  well, 
but  has  met  with  misfortune." 

She  then,  with  Laura,  returned  immediately  home 
and  ordered  her  carriage  for  a  visit  to  the  prison. 
She  also  remembered  with  provident  care  that  the 
young  man  could  not  have  tasted  food  that  morning. 


OUR  KNIGHT  IN  JAIL.  I47 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

OUR  KNIGHT  IN  JAIL. 

AS  Haldane  emerged  from  the  office  into  the 
open  glare  of  the  street,  he  was  oppressed 
with  such  an  intolerable  sense  of  shame  that  he  be 
came  sick  and  faint,  and  tottered  against  the  police 
man,  who  took  no  other  notice  of  his  condition  than 
the  utterance  of  a  jocular  remark : 

"  You  haven't  got  over  your  drunk  yet,  I'm  athink- 
ing." 

Haldane  made  no  reply,  and  the  physical  weak 
ness  gradually  passed  away.  As  his  stunned  and 
bewildered  mind  regained  the  power  to  act,  he  be 
came  conscious  of  a  morbid  curiosity  to  see  how  he 
was  regarded  by  those  whom  he  met.  He  knew 
that  their  manner  would  pierce  like  sword-thrusts, 
and  yet  every  scornful  or  averted  face  had  a  cruel 
fascination. 

With  a  bitterness  of  which  his  young  heart  had 
never  before  had  even  a  faint  conception,  he  remem 
bered  that  this  cold  and  contemptuous,  this  scoffing 
and  jeering  world  was  the  same  in  which  only  yester 
day  he  proposed  to  tower  in  such  lofty  grandeur  that 
the  maiden  who  had  slighted  him  should  be  consumed 
with  vain  regret  in  memory  of  her  lost  opportunity. 


148     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

He  had,  indeed,  gained  eminence  speedily.  All  the 
•town  was  hearing  of  him  ;  but  the  pedestal  which 
'lifted  him  so  high  was  composed  equally  of  crime 
and  folly,  and  he  felt  as  if  he  might  stand  as  a  monu 
ment  of  shame. 

But  his  grim  and  legal  guardians  tramped  along 
in  the  most  stolid  and  indifferent  manner.  The 
gathering  rabble  at  their  heels  had  no  terror  for 
them.  Indeed,  they  rather  enjoyed  parading  before 
respectable  citizens  this  dangerous  substratum  of 
society.  It  was  a  delicate  way  of  saying,  "  Behold 
in  these  your  peril,  and  in  us  your  defense.  We  are 
necessary  to  your  peace  and  security.  Respect  us 
and  pay  us  well." 

They  represented  the  majesty  of  the  law,  which 
could  lay  its  strong  hand  on  high  and  low  alike, 
and  the  publicity  which  was  like  a  scorching  fire  to 
Haldane  brought  honor  to  them. 

Although  the  journey  seemed  interminable  to  the 
culprit,  they  were  not  long  in  reaching  the  police 
court,  where  the  magistrate  presiding  had  already 
entered  on  his  duties.  All  night  long,  and  throughout 
the  entire  city,  the  scavengers  of  the  law  had  been  at 
work,  and  now,  as  a  result,  every  miserable  atom  of 
humanity  that  had  made  itself  a  pestilential  offense 
to  society  was  gathered  here  to  be  disposed  of  ac 
cording  to  sanatory  moral  rules. 

Hillaton  was  a  comparatively  well-behaved  and 
decorous  city  ;'  but  in  every  large  community  there 
is  always  a  certain  amount  of  human  sediment,  and 
Haldane  felt  that  he  had  fallen  low  indeed,  when  he 
found  himself  classed  and  huddled  with  miserable 


0  UR  KNIGHT  IN  JA IL.  149 

objects  whose  existence  he  had  never  before  real 
ized.  Near  him  stood  men  who  apparently  had 
barely  enough  humanity  left  to  make  their  dominat 
ing  animal  natures  more  dangerous  and  difficult  to 
control.  To  the  instincts  of  a  beast  was  added  some 
thing  of  a  man's  intelligence,  but  so  developed  that 
it  was  often  little  more  than  cunning.  If,  when 
throwing  away  his  manhood,  man  becomes  a  crea 
ture  more  to  be  dreaded  than  beasts  or  venomous 
things,  whichever  he  happens  most  to  resemble, 
woman,  parting  with  her  womanhood,  scarcely  finds 
her  counterpart  even  in  the  most  noxious  forms  of 
earthly  existence.  She  becomes,  in  her  perversion, 
something  that  is  unnatural  and  monstrous  ;  some 
thing,  so  opposite  to  the  Creator's  design,  as  only  to 
suggest  it  in  caricature,  or,  more  often,  in  fiendish 
mockery.  The  Gorgons,  Sirens,  and  Harpies  of  the 
ancients  are  scarcely  myths,  for  their  fabled  forms 
only  too  accurately  portray,  not  the  superficial  and 
transient  outward  appearance,  but  the  enduring 
character  within. 

Side  by  side  with  Haldane  stood  a  creature7  whose 
disheveled,  rusty  hair,  blotched  and  bloated  features, 
wanton,  cunning,  restless  eyes,  combined  perfectly 
to  form  the  head  of  the  mythological  Harpy.  It 
required  little  effort  of  the  imagination  to  believe 
that  her  foul,  bedraggled  dress  concealed  the  "  wings 
and  talons  of  the  vulture."  Being  still  unsteady 
from  her  night's  debauch,  she  leaned  against  the 
young  man,  and  when  he  shrank  in  loathing  away, 
she,  to  annoy  him,  clasped  him  in  her  arms,  to  the 
uproarious  merriment  of  the  miscellaneous  crowd 


150    KNIGHT  OF    THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

that  is  ever  present  at  a  police  court.  Haldane 
broke  away  from  her  grasp  with  such  force  as  to 
make  quite  a  commotion,  and  at  the  same  time  said 
loudly  and  fiercely  to  the  officer  who  had  arrested 
him  : 

"  You  may  have  the  power  to  take  me  to  jail,  but 
you  have  not,  and  shall  not  have,  the  right  or  the 
power  to  subject  me  to  such  indignities." 

"  Silence  there  !  Keep  order  in  the  court  !  "  com 
manded  the  judge. 

The  officer  removed  his  prisoner  a  little  farther 
apart  from  the  others,  growling  as  he  did  so  : 

"  If  you  don't  like  your  company,  you  should  have 
kept  out  of  it." 

Even  in  his  overwhelming  anxiety  and  distress 
Haldane  could  not  forbear  giving  a  few  curious 
glances  at  his  companions.  He  had  dropped  out  of 
his  old  world  into  a  new  one,  and  these  were  its 
inhabitants.  In  their  degradation  and  misery  he 
seemed  to  see  himself  and  his  future  reflected.  What 
had  the  policeman  said? — "Your  company,"  and 
with  a  keener  pang  than  he  had  yet  experienced  he 
realized  that  this  was  his  company,  that  he  now 
belonged  to  the  criminal  classes.  He  who  yesterday 
had  the  right  to  speak  to  Laura  Romeyn,  was  now 
herded  with  drunkards,  thieves,  and  prostitutes  ;  he 
who  yesterday  could  enter  Mrs.  Arnot's  parlor,  might 
now  as  easily  enter  heaven.  As  the  truth  of  his 
situation  gradually  dawned  upon  him,  he  felt  as  if  an 
icy  hand  were  closing  upon  his  heart. 

But  little  time,  however,  was  given  him  for  obser 
vation  or  bitter  revery.  With  the  rapid  and  routine- 


0 UR  KNIGH T  IN  JAIL.  151 

like  manner  of  one  made  both  callous  and  expert 
by  long  experience,  the  magistrate  was  sorting  and 
disposing  of  the  miserable  waifs.  Now  he  has  be 
fore  him  the  inmates  of  a  "  disorderly  house,"  upon 
which  a  u  raid  "  had  been  made  the  previous  night. 
What  is  that  fair  young  girl  with  blue  eyes  doing 
among  those  coarse-featured  human  dregs,  her  com 
panions  ?  She  looks  like  a  white  lily  that  has  been 
dropped  into  a  puddle.  Perhaps  that  delicate  and 
attractive  form  is  but  a  disguise  to  the  Harpy's  wings 
and  claws.  Perhaps  a  gross,  bestial  spirit  is  masked 
by  her  oval  Madonna-like  face.  Perhaps  she  is  the 
victim  of  one  upon  whom  God  will  wreak  his  ven 
geance  forever,  though  society  has  for  him  scarcely 
a  frown. 

The  puddle  is  suddenly  drained  off  into  some  law- 
ordained  receptacle,  and  the  white  lily  is  swept  away 
with-it.  She  will  not  long  suggest  a  flower  that  has 
been  dropped  into  the  gutter.  The  stains  upon  her 
soul  will  creep  up  into  her  face,  and  make  her  hideous 
like  the  rest. 

The  case  of  Egbert  Haldane  was  next  called.  As 
the  policeman  had  said,  his  own  admissions  were 
now  used  against  him,  for  the  confidential  clerk,  and, 
if  there  was  need,  the  broken-nosed  reporter  were 
on  hand  to  testify  to  all  that  had  been  said.  The 
young  man  made  no  attempt  to  conceal,  but  tried  to 
explain  more  fully  the  circumstances  which  led  to  the 
act,  hoping  that  in  them  the  justice  would  find  such 
extenuating  elements  as  would  prevent  a  committal 
to  prison. 

The  judge  recognized  and  openly  acknowledged 


152 


KNIGHT  OF    THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


the  fact  that  it  was  not  a  case  of  deliberate  wrong 
doing,  and  he  ordered  the  arrest  of  the  superior 
young  gentleman  who  had  introduced  the  New  York 
gamblers  to  their  victim  ;  and  yet  in  the  eye  of  the 
law  it  was  a  clear  case  of  embezzlement ;  and,  as  Mr. 
Arnot's  friend,  the  magistrate  felt  little  disposition 
to  prevent  things  from  taking  their  usual  course. 
The  prisoner  must  either  furnish  bail  at  once,  or  be 
committed  until  he  could  do  so,  or  until  the  case 
could  be  properly  tried.  As  Haldane  was  a  compar 
ative  stranger  in  Hillaton  there  was  no  one  to  whom 
he  felt  he  could  apply,  and  he  supposed  it  would  re 
quire  some  little  time  for  his  mother  to  arrange  the 
matter.  Upon  his  signifying  that  he  could  not  fur 
nish  bail  immediately,  the  judge  -promptly  ordered 
his  committal  to  the  common  jail  of  the  city,  which 
happened  to  be  at  some  distance  from  the  building 
then  employed  for  the  preliminary  examinations. 

It  was  while  on  his  way  to  this  place  of  detention 
that  he  heard  Mrs.  Arnot's  voice,  and  encountered 
her  eyes  and  those  of  Laura  Romeyn.  His  first  im 
pulse  was  to  end  both  his  suffering  and  himself  by 
some  desperate  act,  but  he  was  powerless  even  to 
harm  himself. 

The  limit  of  endurance,  however,  had  been  reach 
ed.  The  very  worst  that  he  could  imagine  had  be 
fallen  him.  Laura  Romeyn  had  looked  upon  his 
unutterabk  shame  and  disgrace.  From  a»  quivering 
and  almost  agonizing  sensibility  to  his  situation  he 
reacted  into  sullen  indifference.  He  no  longer  saw 
the  sun  shining  in  the  sky,  nor  the  familiar  sights  of 
the  street;  he  no  longer  heard  nor  heeded  the  jeer- 


OUR  KNIGHT  IN  JAIL.  1 53 

ing  rabble  that  came  tramping  after.  He  became  for 
the  time  scarcely  more  than  a  piece  of  mechanism, 
that  barely  retained  the  power  of  voluntary  motion, 
but  had  lost  ability  to  feel  and  think.  When,  at  last, 
he  entered  his  narrow  cell,  eight  feet  by  eight,  the 
wish  half  formed  itself  in  his  mind  that  it  was  six  feet 
by  two,  and  that  he  might  hide  in  it  forever. 

He  sat  down  on  the  rough  wooden  couch  which 
formed  the  only  furniture  of  the  room,  and  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands,  conscious  only  of  a  dull,  leaden 
weight  of  pain.  He  made  no  effort  to  obtain  legal 
counsel  or  to  communicate  his  situation  to  his  mo 
ther.  Indeed,  he  dreaded  to  see  her,  and  he  felt 
that  he  could  not  look  his  sisters  in  the  face  again. 
The  prison  cell  seemed  a  refuge  from  the  terrible 
scorn  of  the  world,  and  his  present  impulse  was  to 
cower  behind  its  thick  walls  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 
7* 


154    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
MR.  ARNOT'S  SYSTEM  WORKS  BADLY. 

MR.  ARNOT  was  so  disturbed  by  his  wife's  visit 
that  he  found  it  impossible  to  return  to  the 
routine  of  business,  and,  instead  of  maintaining  the 
cold,  lofty  bearing  of  a  man  whose  imperious  will 
awed  and  controlled  all  within  its  sphere,  he  fumed 
up.  and  down  his  office  like  one  who  had  been  caught 
in  the  toils  himself.  In  the  morning  it  had  seemed 
that  there  could  not  have  been  a  fairer  opportunity 
to  vindicate  his  iron  system,  and  make  it  irresistible. 
The  offending  subject  in  his  business  realm  should  re 
ceive  due  punishment.,  and  all  the  rest  be  taught  that 
they  were  governed  by  inexorable  laws,  which  would 
be  executed  with  the  certainty  and  precision  with 
which  the  wheels  moved  in  a  great  factory  under 
the  steady  impulse  of  the  motor  power.  But  the 
whole  matter  now  bade  fair  to  end  in  a  tangled  snarl, 
whose  final  issue  no  one  could  foretell. 

He  was  sensitive  to  public  opinion,  and  had  sup 
posed  that  his  course  would  be  upheld  and  applaud 
ed,  and  he  commended  as  a  conservator  of  public 
morals.  He  now  feared,  however,  that  he  would  be 
portrayed  as  harsh,  grasping,  and  unfeeling.  It  did 


MR.  ARNOT'S  SYSTEM  WORKS  BADLY.         155 

not  trouble  him  that  he  was  so,  but  that  he  would 
be  made  to  appear  so. 

But  his  wife's  words  in  reference  to  the  withdrawal 
of  her  large  property  from  his  business  was  a  far 
more  serious  consideration.  He  had  learned  how 
resolute  and  unswerving  she  could  be  in  matters  of 
conscience,  and  he  knew  that  she  was  not  in  the 
habit  of  making  idle  threats  in  moments  of  irritation. 
If,  just  at  this  time,  when  he  was  widely  extending 
his  business,  she  should  demand  a  separate  invest 
ment  of  her  means,  it  would  embarrass  and  cripple 
him  in  no  slight  degree.  If  this  should  be  one  of  the 
results  of  his  master-stroke,  he  would  have  reason  to 
curse  his  brilliant  policy  all  his  days.  He  would  now 
be  only  too  glad  to  get  rid  of  the  Haldane  affair  on 
any  terms,  for  thus  far  it  had  prove4  only  a  source 
of  annoyance  and  mortification.  He  was  somewhat 
consoled,  however,  when  his  confidential  clerk  re-' 
turned  and  intimated  that  the  examination  before 
the  justice  had  been  brief;  that  Haldane  had  eagerly 
stated  his  case  to  the  justice,  but  when  that  digni 
tary  remarked  that  it  was  a  clear  case  of  embezzle 
ment,  and  that  he  would  have  to  commit  the  prisoner 
unless  some  one  went  security  for  his  future  appear 
ance,  the  young  fellow  had  grown  sullen  and  an 
swered,  "Send  me  to  jail  then;  I  have  no  friends 
in  this  accursed  city." 

To  men  of  the  law  and  of  sense  the  case  was  as 
clear  as  daylight. 

But  .Mr.  Arnot  was  not  by  any  means  through 
with  his  disagreeable  experiences.  He  had  been  a 
manufacturer  sufficiently  long  to  know  that  when  a 


156    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

piece  of  machinery  is  set  in  motion,  not  merely  the 
wheels  nearest  to  one  will  move,  but  also  others  that 
for  the  moment  may  be  out  of  sight.  He  who  pro 
poses  to  have  a  decided  influence  upon  a  fellow-crea 
ture's  destiny  should  remember  our  complicated  re 
lations,  for  he  cannot  lay  his  strong  grasp  upon  one 
life  without  becoming  entangled  in  the  interests  of 
many  others. 

Mr.  Arnot  was  finding  this  out  to  his  cost,  for  he 
had  hardly  composed  himself  to  his  writing  again 
before  there  was  a  rustle  of  a  lady's  garments  in  the 
outer  office,  and  a  hasty  step  across  the  threshold 
of  his  private  sanctum.  Looking  up,  he  saw,  to  his 
dismay,  the  pale,  frightened  face  of  Mrs.  Haldane. 

"  Where  is  Egbert  ? — where  is  my  son  ?  "  she  asked 
abruptly.  » 

At  that  moment  Mr.  Arnot  admitted  to  himself 
that  he  had  never  been  asked  so  embarrassing  a  ques 
tion  in  all  his  life.  Before  him  was  his  wife's  friend, 
a  lady  of  the  highest  social  rank,  and  she  was  so  un 
mistakably  a  lady  that  he  could  treat  her  with  only 
the  utmost  deference.  He  saw  with  alarm  himself 
the  mother's  nervo'us  and  trembling  apprehension, 
for  there  was  scarcely  any  thing  under  heaven  that 
he  would  not  rather  face  than  a  scene  with  a  hyste 
rical  woman.  If  this  was  to  be  the  climax  of  his 
policy  he  would  rather  have  lost  the  thousand  dol 
lars  than  have  had  it  occur.  Rising  from  his  seat,  he 
said  awkwardly : 

".Really,  madam,  I  did  not  expect  you  here  this 
morning  ?  " 

"  I  was  on  my  way  to  New  York,  and  decided  to 


MR.  ARNOT' S  SYSTEM  WORKS  BADLY. 


157 


stop  and  give  my  son  a  surprise.  But  this  paper — 
this  dreadful  report — what  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say,  madam,  it  is  all  too  true,"  re 
plied  Mr.  Arnot  uneasily.  "  Please  take  a  chair,  or 
perhaps  it  would  be  better  for  you  to  go  at  once  to 
our  house  and  see  Mrs.  Arnot,"  he  added,  now  glad 
to  escape  the  interview  on  any  terms. 

"  What  is  too  true  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  I  think  you  had  better  see  Mrs.  Arnot ;  she  will 
explain,"  said  the  unhappy  man,  who  felt  that  his 
system  was  tumbling  in  chaos  about  his  ears.  "  Let 
me  assist  you  to  your  carriage." 

"  Da  you  think  I  can  endure  the  suspense  of  an 
other  moment?  In  mercy  speak  —  tell  me  the 
worst !  " 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Arnot,  with  a  shiver  like  that  of 
one  about  to  plunge  into  a  cold  bath,  "  I  suppose 
you  will  learn  sooner  or  later  that  your  son  has  com 
mitted  a  very  wrong  act.  But,"  he  added  hastily, 
on  seeing  Mrs.  Haldane's  increasing  pallor,  "  there 
are  extenuating  circumstances — at  least,  I  shall  act 
as  if  there  were." 

"  But  what  has  he  done — where  is  he?"  cried  the 
mother  in  agony.  Then  she  added  in  a  frightened 
whisper,  "  But  the  matter  can  be  hushed  up — there 
jieed  be  no  publicity — O,  that  would  kill  me  !  Please 
take  steps — " 

•'  Mr.  Arnot,"  said  a  young  man  just  entering,  and 
speaking  in  a  piping,  penetrating  voice,  "  I  repre 
sent  the  Evening  Spy.  I  wish  to  obtain  from  you 
for  publication  the  particulars  of  this  disgraceful 
affair."  Then,  seeing  Mrs.  Haldane,  who  had 


158     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

dropped  her  vail;  and  was  trembling  violently,  he 
added,  "  I  hope  I  am  not  intruding;   I— 

"  Yes,  sir,  you  are  intruding,"  said  Mr.  Arnot 
harshly. 

"  Then,  perhaps,  sir,  you  will  be  so  kind  as  to  step 
outside  for  a  moment.  I  can  take  down  your  words 
rapidly,  and — " 

"  Step  outside  yourself,  sir.  I  have  nothing  what 
ever  to  say  to  you." 

"  I  beg  you  to  reconsider  that  decision,  sir.  Of 
course,  a  full  account  of  the  affair  must  appear  in 
this  evening's  Spy.  It  will  be  your  own  fault  if  it  is 
not  true  in  all  respects.  It  is  said  that  you  have 
acted  harshly  in  the  matter — that  it  was  young  Hal- 
dane's  first  offense,  and — " 

"  Leave  my  office !  "  thundered  Mr.  Arnot. 

The  lynx-eyed  reporter,  while  speaking  thus  rapid 
ly,  had  been  scrutinizing  the  vailed  and  trembling, 
lady,  and  he  was  scarcely  disappointed  that  she  now 
rose  hastily,  and  threw  back  her  vail  as  she  said 
eagerly, 

"  Why  must  the  whole  affair  be  published  ?  You 
say  truly  that  his  offense,  whatever  it  is,  is  his  first. 
Surely  the  editor  of  your  paper  will  not  be  so  cruel 
as  to  blast  a  young  man  forever  with  disgrace !  " 

"  Mrs.  Haldane,  I  presume,"  said  the  reporter, 
tracing  a  few  hieroglyphics  in  his  note-book. 
.  "  Yes,"  continued  the  lady,  speaking  from  the  im 
pulse  of  her  heart,  rather  than  from  any  correct 
knowledge  of  the  world,  "  and  I  will  pay  willingly  any 
amount  to  have  the  whole  matter  quietly  dropped. 
I  could  not  endure  any  thing  of  this  kind,  for  I  have 


MR.  ARNO T'S  S YSTEM  WORKS  BADL Y.        159 

no  husband  to  shelter  me,  and  the  boy  has  no  father 
to  protect  him." 

Mr.  Arnot  groaned  in  spirit  that  he  had  not  con 
sidered  this  case  in  any  of  its  aspects  save  those 
which  related  to  his  business.  He  had  formed  the 
habit  of  regarding  all  other  considerations  as  unwor 
thy  of  attention,  but  here,  certainly,  was  a  most  dis 
agreeable  exception. 

"  You  touch  my  feelings  deeply/'  said  the  reporter, 
in  a  tone  that  never  for  a  second  lost  its  professional 
cadence,  "  but  I  much  regret  that  your  hopes  cannot 
be  realized.  Your  son's  act  could  scarcely  be  kept 
a  secret  after  the  fact — known  to  all — that  he  has 
been  openly  dragged  to  prison  through  the  streets," 
and  the  gatherer  of  news  and  sensations  kept  an  eye 
on  each  of  his  victims  as  he  made  this  statement. 
A  cabalistic  sign  in  his  note-book  indicated  the  visi 
ble  wincing  of  the  enraged  and  half-distracted  manu 
facturer,  whose  system  was  like  an  engine  off  the 
track,  hissing  and  helpless ;  and  a  few  other  equally 
obscure  marks  suggested  to  the  initiated  the  lady's 
words  as  she  half  shrieked  : 

"  My  son  dragged  through  the  streets  to  prison  ! 
By  whom — who  could  do  so  dreadful?" — and  she 
sank  shudderingly  into  a  chair,  and  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands,  as  if  to  shut  out  a  harrowing  vision. 

11  I  regret  to  say,  madam,  that  it  was  by  a  police 
man,"  added  the  reporter. 

"  And  thither  a  policeman  shall  drag  you,  if  you 
do  not  instantly  vacate  these  premises!"  said  Mr. 
Arnot,  hoarse  with  rage. 

"  Thank  you   for  your  courtesy,"   answered  the 


160    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

reporter,  shutting  his  book  with  a  snap  like  that  of 
a  steel  trap.  "  I  have  now  about  all  the  points  I 
wish  to  get  here.  I  understand  that  Mr.  Patrick 
M'Cabe  is  no  longer  under  any  obligations  to  you, 
and  from  him  I  can  learn  additional  particulars. 
Good  morning." 

"  Yes,  go  to  that  unsullied  source  of  truth,  whom  I 
have  just  discharged  for  lying  and  disobedience.  Go 
to  perdition,  also,  if  you  please ;  but  take  yourself 
out  of  my  office,"  said  Mr.  Arnot  recklessly,  for  he 
was  growing  desperate  from  the  unexpected  compli 
cations  of  the  case.  Then  he  summoned  one  of  his 
clerks,  and  said  in  a  tone  of  authority,  "  Take  this 
lady  to  my  residence,  and  leave  her  in  the  care  of 
Mrs.  Arnot." 

Mrs.  Haldane  rose  unsteadily,  and  tottered  toward 
the  door. 

"No,"  said  she  bitterly;  "I  may  faint  in  the 
street,  but  I  will  not  go  to  your  house." 

"  Then  assist  the  lady  to  her  carriage  ;  "  and  Mr. 
Arnot  turned  the  key  of  his  private  office  with  mut 
tered  imprecations  upon  the  whole  wretched  affair. 

"Whither  shall  I  tell  the  man  to  drive?"  asked 
the  clerk,  after  Mrs.  Haldane  had  sunk  back  ex 
hausted  on  the  seat. 

The  lady  put  her  hand  to  her  brow,  and  tried  to 
collect  her  distracted  thoughts,  and,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation,  paid, 

"  To  the  prison." 

The  carriage  containing  Mrs.  Haldane  stopped  at 
last  before  the  gloomy,  massive  building,  the  upper 
part  of  which  was  used  as  a  court-room  and  offices 


MR.  ARNOT'S  SYSTEM  WORKS  BADLY.        161 

for  city  and  county  officials,  while  in  the  basement 
were  constructed  the  cells  of  the  prison.  It  required 
a  desperate  effort  on  the  part  of  the  timid  and  deli 
cate  lady>  who  for  years  had  almost  been  a  recluse 
from  the  world,  to  summon  courage  to  alight  and 
approach  a  place  that  to  her  abounded  in  many  and 
indefinite  horrors.  She  was  too  preoccupied  to  ob 
serve  that  another  carriage  had  drawn  up  to  the 
entrance,  and  the  first  intimation  that  she  had  of 
Mrs.  Arnot's  presence  occurred  when  that  lady  took 
her  hand  in  the  shadow  of  the  porch,  and  said, 

"  Mrs.  Haldane,  I  am  greatly  surprised  to  see  you 
here;  but  you  can  rely  upon  me  as  a  true  friend 
throughout  this  trial.  I  shall  do  all  in  my  power 
to—" 

After  the  first  violent  start  caused  by  her  disturbed 
nervous  condition,  Mrs.  Haldane  asked,  in  a  reproach 
ful  and  almost  passionate  tone, 

"  Why  did  you  not  prevent — "  and  then  she  hesi 
tated,  as  if  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  utter  the 
concluding  words. 

"  I  could  not ;  I  did  not  know ;  but  since  I  heard 

I  have  been  doing  every  thing  in  my  power." 

"  It  was  your  husband  who — " 

"Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Arnot,  sadly,  completing  in 

thought  her  friend's  unfinished  sentence.     "  But  I 

;»    had  no  part  in  the  act,  and  no  knowledge  of  it  until 

a  short  time  since.     I  am  now  doing  all  I  can  to 

procure  your  son's  speedy  release.     My  husband's 

action  has  been  perfectly  legal,  and  we,  who  would 

temper  justice  with  mercy,  must  do  so  in  a  legal 

way.     Permit  me  to  introduce  you  to  my  friend,  Mr. 


1 62     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Melville.  He  can  both  advise  us  and  carry  out  such 
arrangements  as  are  necessary ;"  and  Mrs.  Haldane  saw 
that  Mrs.  Arnot  was  accompanied  by  a  gentleman, 
whom  in  her  distress  she  had  not  hitherto  noticed. 

The  janitor  now  opened  the  door,  and  ushered 
them  into  a  very  plain  apartment,  used  both  as  an 
office  and  reception-room.  Mrs.  Haldane  was  so 
overcome  by  her  emotion  that  her  friend  led  her  to 
a  chair,  and  continued  her  reassuring  words  in  a  low 
voice  designed  for  her  ears  alone : 

"  Mr.  Melville  is  a  lawyer,  and  knows  how  to  man 
age  these  matters.  You  may  trust  him  implicitly. 
I  will  give  security  for  your  son's  future  appearance, 
should  it  be  necessary,  and  I  am  quite  satisfied  it 
will  not  be,  as  my  husband  has  promised  me  that  he 
will  not  prosecute  if  the  money  is  refunded." 

"  I  would  have  paid  ten  times  the  amount — any 
thing  rather  than  have  suffered  this  public  disgrace," 
sobbed  the  poor  woman,  who,  true  to  her  instincts 
and  life-long  habit  of  thought,  dwelt  more  upon  the 
consequent  shame  of  her  son's  act  than  its  moral 
character. 

11  Mr.  Melville  says  he  will  give  bail  in  his  own 
name  for  me,"  resumed  Mrs.  Arnot,  "  as,  of  course, 
I  do  not  wish  to  appear  to  be  acting  in  opposition 
to  my  husband.  Indeed,  I  am  not,  for  he  is  willing 
that  some  such  an  arrangement  should  be  made.  He 
has  very  many  in  his  employ,  and  feels  that  he  must 
be  governed  by  rigid  rules.  Mr.  Melville  assures 
me  that  he  can  speedily  effect  Egbert's  release. 
Perhaps  it  will  save  you  pain  to  go  at  once  to  our 
house  and  meet  your  son  there." 


MR.  ARNO T ' S  S YS TEM  WORKS  BADLY.          163 

"No,"  replied  the  mother,  rising,  "  I  wish  to  see 
him  at  once.  I  do  appreciate  your  kindness,  but  I 
cannot  go  to  the  place  which  shelters  your  husband. 
I  can  never  forgive  him.  Nor  can  I  go  to  a  hotel.  I 
would  rather  stay  in  this  prison  until  I  can  hide 
myself  and  my  miserable  son  in  our  own  home.  O, 
how  dark  and  dreadful  are  God's  ways !  To  think 
that  the  boy  that  I  had  brought  up  in  the  Church, 
as  it  were,  should  show  such  unnatural  depravity !  " 
Then,  stepping  to  the  door,  she  said  to  the  under- 
sheriff  in  waiting,  "  Please  take  me  to  my  son  at 
once,  if  possible." 

"  Would  you  like  me  to  go  with  you?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Arnot,  gently. 

"  Yes,  yes!  for  I  may  faint  on  the  way.  O,  how 
differently  this  day  is  turning  out  from  what  I 
expected!  I  was  in  hopes  that  Egbert  could  join 
me  in  a  little  trip  to  New  York,  and  I  find  him  in 
prison  !  " 


1 64     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  XV. 
HALDANE'S  RESOLVE. 

IT  was  not  in  accordance  with  nature  nor  with 
Haldane's  peculiar  temperament  that  he  should 
remain  long  under  a  stony  paralysis  of  shame  and 
despair.  Though  tall  and  manlike  in  appearance,  he 
was  not  a  man.  Boyish  traits  and  impulses  still  lin 
gered  ;  indeed,  they  had  been  fostered  and  maintained 
longer  than  usual  by  a  fond  and  indulgent  mother.  It 
was  not  an  evidence  of  weakness,  but  rather  a  whole 
some  instinct  of  nature,  that  his  thoughts  should  gra 
dually  find  courage  to  go  to  that  mother  as  his  only 
source  of  comfort  and  help.  She,  at  least,  would  not 
scorn  him,  and  with  her  he  might  find  a  less  dismal 
refuge  than  his  narrow  cell,  should  it  be  possible  to 
escape  imprisonment.  If  it  were  not,  he  was  too 
young  and  unacquainted  with  misfortune  not  to  long 
for  a  few  kind  words  of  comfort. 

He  did  not  even  imagine  that  Mrs.  Arnot,  the  wife 
of  his  employer,  would  come  near  him  in  his  deep 
disgrace.  Even  the  thought  of  her  kindness  and  his 
requital  of  it  now  stung  him  to  the  quick,  and  he 
fairly  writhed  as  he  pictured  to  himself  the  scorn  that 
must  have  been  on  Laura's  face  as  she  saw  him  on 
his  way  to  prison  like  a  common  thief. 


HALDANE  'S  RE  SOL  VE.  165 

As  he  remembered  how  full  of  rich  promise  life 
was  but  a  few  days  since,  and  how  all  had  changed 
even  more  swiftly  and  unexpectedly  than  the  gro 
tesque  events  of  a  horrid  dream,  he  bowed  his  head 
in  his  hands  and  sobbed  like  a  grief-stricken  child. 

"  O  mother,  mother,"  he  groaned,  "  if  I  could 
only  hear  your  voice  and  feel  your  touch,  a  little  of 
this  crushing  weight  might  be  lifted  off  my  heart !  " 

Growing  calmer  after  a  time,  he  was  able  to  con 
sider  his  situation  more  connectedly,  and  he  was 
about  to  summon  the  sheriff  in  charge  of  the  prison, 
that  he  might  telegraph  his  mother,  when-  he  heard 
her  voice  as,  in  the  company  of  that  official,  she  was 
seeking  her  way  to  him. 

He  shrank  back  in  his  cell.  His  heart  beat  vio 
lently  as  he  heard  the  rustle  of  her  dress.  The  sheriff 
unlocked  the  grated  iron  door  which  led  to  the  long, 
narrow  corridor  into  which  the  cells  opened,  and  to 
which  prisoners  had  access  during  the  day. 
•  "  He's  in  that  cell,  ladies,"  said  the  officer's  voice, 
and  then,  with  commendable  delicacy,  withdrew, 
having  first  ordered  the  prisoners  in  his  charge  to 
their  cells. 

"  Lean  upon  my  arm,"  urged  a  gentle  voice,  which 
Haldane  recognized  as  that  of  Mrs.  Arnot. 

"  O,  this  is  awful !  "  moaned  the  stricken  woman  ; 
"this  is  more  than  /can  endure." 

The  pronoun  she  used  threw  a  chill  on  the  heart 
of  her  son;  but  when  she  tottered  to  the  door  of  his 
cell  he  sprang  forward,  with  the  low,  appealing  cry, 

"  Mother ! " 

But  the  poor,  gentle  woman  was  so  overcome  that 


1 66     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

she  sank  down  on  a  bench  by  the  door,  and,  with  her 
face  buried  in  her  hands,  as  if  to  shut  out  a  vision 
that  would  blast  her,  she  rocked  back  and  forth  in 
anguish,  as  she  groaned, 

"O  Egbert,  Egbert !  you  have  disgraced  me,  you 
have  disgraced  your  sisters,  you  have  disgraced 
yourself  beyond  remedy.  O  God  !  what  have  I  done 
to  merit  this  awful,  this  overwhelming  disaster?" 

With  deep  pain  and  solicitude  Mrs.  Arnot  watched 
the  young  man's  face  as  the  light  from  the  grated 
window  fell  upon  it.  The  appeal  that  trembled  in 
his  voice  had  been  more  plainly  manifest  in  his  face, 
which  had  worn  an  eager  and  hopeful  expression, 
and  even  suggested  the  spirit  of  the  little  child  when 
in  some  painful  emergency  it  turns  to  its  first  and 
natural  protector. 

But  most  marked  was  the  change  caused  by  the 
mother's  lamentable  want  of  tact  and  self-control,  for 
that  same  face  became  stony  and  sullen.  Instead  of 
showing  a  spirit  which  deep  distress  and  crushing 
disaster  had  made  almost  childlike  in  its  readiness  to 
receive  a  mother's  comfort  once  more,  he  suddenly 
became,  in  appearance,  a  hardened  criminal. 

Mrs.  Arnot  longed  to  undo  by  her  kindness  the 
evil  which  her  friend  was  unwittingly  causing,  but 
could  not  come  between  mother  and  son.  She  stoop 
ed  down,  however,  and  whispered, 

"  Mrs.  Haldane,  speak  kindly  to  your  boy.  He 
looked  to  you  for  sympathy.  Do  not  let  him  feel 
that  you,  like  the  world,  are  against  him." 

"  O  no,"  said  Mrs.  Haldane,  her  sobs  ceasing  some 
what,  "  I  mean  to  do  my  duty  by  him.  He  shall  al- 


HALDANE'S  RESOLVE.  167 

ways  have  a  good  home,  but  O,  what  a  blight  and  a 
shadow  he  has  brought  to  that  home !  That  I  should 
have  ever  lived  to  see  this  day !  O  Egbert,  Egbert ! 
your  sisters  will  have  to  live  like  nuns,  for  they  can 
never  even  go  out  upon  the  street  again  ;  and  to  think 
that  the  ringer  of  scorn  should  be  pointed  after  you 
in  the  city  where  your  father  made  our  name  so  hon 
orable  !  " 

"  It  never  shall  be,"  said  Haldane  coldly.  "  You 
have  only  tb  leave  me  in  prison  to  be  rid  of  me  a 
long  time." 

"  Leave  you  in  prison  !  "  exclaimed  his  mother  ; 
"  I  would  as  soon  stay  here  myself.  No  ;  through 
Mrs.  Arnot's  kindness,  arrangements  are  made  for 
your  release.  I  shall  then  take  you  to  our  miserable 
home  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  I  am  not  going  home." 

"  Now,  this  is  too  much  !     What  will  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  shall" remain  in  this  city,"  he  replied,  speaking 
from  an  angry  impulse.  "  It  was  here  I  fell  and 
covered  myself  with  shame,  and  I  shall  here  fight 
my  way  back  to  the  position  I  lost.  The  time  shall 
come  when  you  will  no  longer  say  I'm  a  disgrace  to 
you  and  my  sisters.  My  heart  was  breaking,  and 
the  first  word  you  greet  me  with  is  '  disgrace  ; '  and  if 
I  went  home,  disgrace  would  always  be  in  your  mind, 
if  not  upon  your  tongue.  I  should  have  the  word 
and  thought  kept  before  me  till  I  went  mad.  If  I 
go  home  all  my  old  acquaintances  would  sneer  at 
me  as  a  mean-spirited  cur,  whose  best  exploit  was  to 
get  in  jail,  and  when  his  mother  obtained  his  release 
he  could  do  nothing  more  manly  than  hide  behind 


1 68     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH   CENTURY. 

her  apron  the  rest  of  his  days.  As  far  as  I  can 
judge,  you  and  my  sisters  would  have  no  better 
opinion  of  me.  I  have  been  a  wicked  fool,  I  admit, 
but  I  was  not  a  deliberate  thief.  I  did  hope  for  a 
little  comfort  from  you.  But  since  all  the  world  is 
against  me,  I'll  face  and  fight  the  world.  I  have 
been  dragged  through  these  streets,  the  scorn  of 
every  one,  and  I  will  remain  in  this  city  until  I  com 
pel  the  respect  of  its  proudest  citizen." 

The  moment  he  ceased  his  passionate  utterance, 
Mrs.  Arnot  said  kindly  and  gravely : 

"  Egbert,  you  are  mistaken.  There  was  no  scorn 
in  my  eyes,  but  rather  deep  pity  and  sorrow. 
While  your  course  has  been  very  wrong,  you  have 
no  occasion  to  despair,  and  as  long  as  you  will  try 
to  become  a  true  man  you  shall  have  my  sympa 
thy  and  friendship.  You  do  not  understand  your 
mother.  She  loves  you  as  truly  as  ever,  and  is  will 
ing  to  make  any  sacrifice  for  you.  Only,  her  fuller 
knowledge  of  the  world  makes  her  realize  more  truly 
than  you  yet  can  the  consequences  of  your  act.  The 
sudden  shock  has  overwhelmed  her.  Her  d-istress 
shows  how  deeply  she  is  wounded,  and  you  should 
try  to  comfort  her  by  a  lifetime  of  kindness." 

"  The  best  way  I  can  comfort  her  is  by  deeds  that 
will  wipe  out  the  memory  of  my  disgrace ;  and,"  he 
continued,  his  impulsive,  sanguine  spirit  kindling 
with  the  thought  and  prospect,  "  I  will  regain  all 
and  more  than  I  have  lost.  The  time  shall  com  i 
when  neither  she  nor  my  sisters  will  have  occasion 
to  blush  for  me,  nor  to  seclude  themselves  from  the 
world  because  of  their  relation  to  me." 


HALDANE  'S  RE  SOL  VE.  169 

"  I  should  think  my  heart  was  sufficiently  crushed 
and  broken  already,"  Mrs.  Haldane  sobbed,  "  with 
out  your  adding  to  its  burden  by  charging  me  with 
being  an  unnatural  mother.  I  cannot  understand 
how  a  boy  brought  up  as  religiously  as  you  have 
been  can  show  such  strange  depravity.  The  idea 
that  a  child  of  mine  could  do  any  thing  which  would 
bring  him  to  such  a  place  as  this  !  " 

His  mother's  words  and  manner  seemed  to  exas 
perate  her  son  beyond  endurance,  and  he  exclaimed 
passionately, 

"  Well,  curse  it  all !  I  am  here.  What's  the  use 
of  harping  on  that  any  longer?  Can't  you  listen 
when  I  say  I  want  to  retrieve  myself?  As  to  my 
religious  bringing  up,  it  never  did  me  a  particle  of 
good.  If  you  had  whipped  my  infernal  nonsense 
out  of  me,  and  made  me  mind  when  I  was  little — 
There,  there,  mother,"  he  concluded  more  consid 
erately,  as  she  began  to  grow  hysterical  under  his 
words,  "  do,  for  God's  sake,  be  more  composed ! 
We  can't  help  what  has  happened  now.  I'll  either 
change  the  world's  opinion  of  me,  or  else  get  out  of  it." 

"  How  can  I  be  composed  when  you  talk  in  so 
dreadful  a  manner  ?  You  can't  change  the  world's 
opinion.  It  never  forgives  and  never  forgets.  It's 
the  same  as  if  you  had  said,  I'll  either  do  what  is 
impossible  or  throw  away  my  life  !  " 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Haldane,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot  gently, 
but  firmly,  "your  just  and  natural  grief  is  such  that 
you  cannot  now  judge  correctly  and  wisely  concerning 
this  matter.  The  emergency  is  so  unexpected  and 
so  grave  that  neither  you  nor  your  son  should  form 


I yo    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

opinions  or  make  resolves  until  there  has  been  time 
for  calmer  -thought.  Let  me  take  you  home  with 
me  now,  and  as  soon  as  Egbert  is  released  he  can 
join  you  there." 

"  No,  Mrs.  Arnot,"  said  Haldane  decidedly  ;  "  I 
shall  never  enter  your  parlor  again  until  I  can  enter 
it  as  a  gentleman, — as  one  whom  your  other  guests, 
should  I  meet  them,  would  recognize  as  a  gentleman. 
Your  kindness  is  as  great  as  it  is  unexpected,  but  I 
shall  take  no  mean  advantage  of  it." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot  with  a  sigh,  "  no 
thing  can  be  gained  by  prolonging  this  painful  inter 
view.  We  are  detaining  Mr.  Melville,  and  delaying 
Egbert's  release.  Come,  Mrs.  Haldane  ;  I  can  take 
you  to  the  private  entrance  of  a  quiet  hotel,  where 
you  can  be  entirely  secluded  until  you  are  ready  to 
return  home.  Egbert  can  come  there  as  soon  as 
the  needful  legal  forms  are  complied  with." 

"  No,"  said  the  young  man  with  his  former  deci 
sion,  "  mother  and  I  must  take  leave  of  each  other 
here;  mother  wants  no  jail-birds  calling  on  her  at 
the  hotel.  When  I  have  regained  my  social  footing- 
— when  she  is  ready  to  take  my  arm  and  walk  up 
Main-street  of  this  city — then  she  shall  see  me  as 
often  as  she  wishes.  It  was  my  own  cursed  folly 
that  brought  me  to  the  gutter,  and  if  mother  will 
pay  the  price  of  my  freedom,  I  will  alone  and  un 
aided  make  my  way  back  among  the  highest  and 
proudest.'"' 

"  I  sincerely  hope  you  may  win  such  a  position," 
said  Mrs.  Arnot  gravely,  "  and  it  is  not  impossible 
for  you  to  do  so,  though  I  wish  you  would  make 


HALDANE  'S  RE  SOL  VE.  jji 

the  attempt  in  a  different  spirit ;  but  please  remem 
ber  that  these  considerations  do  not  satisfy  and  com 
fort  a  mother's  heart.  You  should  think  of  all  her 
past  kindness ;  you  should  realize  how  deeply  you 
have  now  wounded  her,  and  strive  with  tenderness 
and  patience  to  mitigate  the  blow." 

"  Mother,  I  am  sorry,  more  sorry  than  you  can 
ever  know,"  he  said,  advancing  to  her  side  and  tak 
ing  her  hand,  "  and  I  have  been  bitterly  punished  ; 
but  I  did  not  mean  to  do  what  I  did  ;  I  was  drunk — " 

"  Drunk !  "  gasped  the  mother, "  merciful  Heaven !  " 

"  Yes,  drunk — may  the  next  drop  of  wine  I  take 
choke  me  ! — and  I  did  not  know  what  I  was  doing. 
But  do  not  despair  of  me.  I  feel  that  I  have  it  in 
me  to  make  a  man  yet.  Go  now  with  Mrs.  Arnot, 
and  aid  in  her  kind  efforts  to  procure  my  release. 
When  you  have  succeeded,  return  home,  and  think 
of  me  as  well  as  you  can  until  I  make  you  think  bet 
ter,"  and  he  raised  and  kissed  her  with  something 
like  tenderness,  and  then  placed  within  Mrs.  Arnot's 
arm  the  hand  of  the  poor  weak  woman,  who  had 
become  so  faint  and  exhausted  from  her  conflicting 
emotions  that  she  submitted  to  be  led  away  after  a 
feeble  remonstrance. 

Mrs.  Arnot  sent  Mr.  Melville  to  the  prisoner,  and 
also" the  food  she  had  brought.  She  then  took  Mrs. 
Haldane  to  a  hotel,  where,  in  the  seclusion  of  her 
room,  she  could  have  every  attention  and  comfort. 
With  many  reassuring  words  she  promised  to  call 
later  in  the  day,  and  if  possible  bring  with  her  the 
unhappy  cause  of  the  poor  gentlewoman's  distress. 


172    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTUKY. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE   IMPULSES   OF   WOUNDED   PRIDE. 

THAT  which  at  first  was  little  more  than  an  im 
pulse,  caused  by  wounded  pride,  speedily  de 
veloped  into  a  settled  purpose,  and  Haldane  would 
leave  his  prison  cell  fully  bent  on  achieving  great 
things.  In  accordance  with  a  tendency  in  impulsive 
natures,  he  reacted  from  something  like  despair  into 
quite  a  sanguine  and  heroic  mood.  He  would  "  face 
and  fight  the  world,  ay,  and  conquer  it,  too."  He 
would  go  out  into  the  streets  which  had  witnessed 
his  disgrace,  and,  penniless,  empty-handed,  dowered 
only  with  shame,  he  would  prove  his  manhood  by 
winning  a  position  that  would  compel  respect  and 
more  than  respect. 

Mrs.  Arnot,  who  returned  immediately  to  the  pri 
son,  was  puzzled  to  know  how  to  deal  with  him. 
She  approved  of  his  resolution  to  remain  in  Hillaton, 
and  of  his  purpose  to  regain  respect  and  position  on 
the  very  spot,  as  it  were,  where,  by  his  crime  and 
folly,  he  had  lost  both.  She  was  satisfied  that  such 
a  course  promised  far  better  for  the  future  than  a  re 
turn  to  his  mother's  luxurious  home.  With  all  its 
beauty  and  comfort  it  would  become  to  him  almost 
inevitably  a  slough,  both  of  "  despond  "  and  of  dissi- 


THE  IMPULSES  OF  WOUNDED  PRIDE 


173 


pation — dissipation  of  the  worst  and  most  hopeless 
kind,  wherein  the  victim's  ruling  motive  is  to  get  rid 
of  self.  The  fact  that  the  young  man  was  capable 
of  turning  upon  and  facing  a  scornful  and  hostile 
world  was  a  good  and  hopeful  sign.  If  he  had  been 
willing  to  slink  away  with  his  mother,  bent  only  on 
escape  from  punishment  and  on  the  continuance  of 
animal  enjoyment,  Mrs.  Arnot  would  have  felt  that 
his  nature  was  not  sufficiently  leavened  with  man 
hood  to  give  hope  of  reform. 

But  while  his  action  did  suggest  hope,  it  also  con 
tained  elements  of  discouragement.  She  did  not  find 
fault  with  what  he  proposed  to  do,  but  with  the  spi 
rit  in  which  he  was  entering  on  his  most  difficult  task. 
His  knowledge  of  the  world  was  so  crude  and  par 
tial  that  he  did  not  at  all  realize  the  herculean  labor 
that  he  now  became  eager  to  attempt ;  and  he  was 
bent  on  accomplishing  every  thing  in  a  way  that 
would  minister  to  his  own  pride,  and  proposed  to 
^e  under  obligations  to  no  one. 

Mrs.  Arnot,  with  her  deep  and  long  experience, 
knew  how  vitally  important  it  is  that  human  endea 
vor  should  be  supplemented  by  divine  aid,  and  she 
sighed  deeply  as  she  saw  that  the  young  man  not 
only  ignored  this  need,  but  did  not  even  seem  con 
scious  of  it.  Religion  was  to  him  a  matter  of  form 
and  profession,  to  which  he  was  utterly  indifferent. 
The  truth  that  God  helps  the  distressed  as  a  father 
helps  and  comforts  his  child,  was  a  thought  that 
then  made  no  impression  on  him  whatever.  God 
and  all  relating  to  him  were  abstractions,  and  he  felt 
that  the  emergency  was  too  pressing,  too  imperative, 


174    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

for  considerations  that  had  no  practical  and  imme 
diate  bearing  upon  his  present  success. 

Indeed,  such  was  his  pride  and  self-confidence, 
that  he  refused  to  receive  from  Mrs.  Arnot,  and  even 
from  his  mother,  any  thing  more  than  the  privilege 
of  going  out  empty-handed  into  the  city  which  was 
to  become  the  arena  of  his  future  exploits. 

He  told  Mrs.  Arnot  the  whole  story,  and  she  had 
hoped  that  she  could  place  his  folly  and  crime  before 
him  in  its  true  moral  aspects,  and  by  dealing  faith 
fully,  yet  kindly,  with  him,  awaken  his  conscience. 
But  she  had  the  tact  to  discover  very  soon  that  such 
effort  was  now  worse  than  useless.  It  was  not  his 
conscience,  but  his  pride,  that  had  been  chiefly 
wounded.  He  felt  his  disgrace,  his  humiliation,  in 
the  eyes  of  men  almost  too  keenly,  and  he  was  con 
sumed  with  desire  to  regain  society's  favor.  But  he 
did  not  feel  his  sin.  To  God's  opinion  of  him  he 
scarcely  gave  a  thought.  He  regarded  his  wrong 
act  in  the  light  of  a  sudden  and  grave  misfortune 
rather  than  as  the  manifestation  of  a  foul  and  inhe 
rent  disease  of  his  soul.  He  had  lost  his  good  name 
as  a  man  loses  his  property,  and  believed  that  he,  in 
his  own  strength,  and  without  any  moral  change, 
could  regain  it. 

When  parting  at  the  prison,  Mrs.  Arnot  gave  him 
her  hand,  and  said  : 

"  I  trust  that  your  hopes  may  be  realized,  and 
your  efforts  meet  with  success ;  but  I  cannot  help 
warning  you  that  I  fear  you  do  not  realize  what  you 
are  attempting.  The  world  is  not  only  very  cold, 
but  also  suspicious  and  wary  in  its  disposition  toward 


'    THE  IMPULSES  OF  WOUNDED  PRIDE.         175 

those  who  have  forfeited  its  confidence.  I  cannot 
learn  that  you  have  any  definite  plans  or  prospects. 
I  have  never  been  able  to  accomplish  much  without 
God's  help.  You  not  only  seem  to  forget  your  need 
of  Him,  but  you  are  not  even  willing  to  receive  aid 
from  me  or  your  own  mother.  I  honor  and  respect 
you  for  making  the  attempt  upon  which  you  are 
bent,  but  I  fear  that  pride  rather  than  wisdom  is 
your  counselor  in  carrying  out  your  resolution  ;  and 
both  God's  word  and  human  experience  prove  that 
pride  goes  but  a  little  way  before  a  fall." 

"  I  have  reached  a  depth,"  replied  Haldane,  bit 
terly,  "  from  whence  I  cannot  fall ;  and  it  will  be 
hereafter  some  consolation  to  remember  that  I  was 
not  lifted  out  of  the  mire,  but  that  I  got  out.  If  I 
cannot  climb  up  again  it  were  better  I  perished  in 
the  gutter  of  my  shame." 

11 1  am  sorry,  Egbert,  that  you  cut  yourself  off 
from  the  most  hopeful  and  helpful  relations  which 
you  can  ever  sustain.  A  father  helps  his  children 
through  their  troubles,  and  so  God  is  desirous  of 
helping  us.  There  are  some  things  which  we  cannot 
jdo  alone — it  is  not  meant  that  we  should.  God  is 
ever  willing  to  help  those  who  are  down,  and  Chris 
tians  are  not  worthy  of  the  name  unless  they  are  also 
willing.  It  is  our  duty  to  make  every  effort  of  which 
we  ourselves  are  capable ;  but  this  is  only  half  our 
duty.  Since  our  tasks  are  beyond  our  strength  and 
ability,  we  are  equally  bound  to  receive  such  human 
aid  as  God  sends  us,  and,  chief  of  all,  to  ask  daily, 
and  sometimes  hourly,  that  His  strength  be  made 
perfect  in  our  weakness.  But  there  are  some  lessons 


1 76     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

which  are  only  learned  by  experience.  I  shall  feel 
deeply  grieved  if  you  do  not  come  or  send  for  me  in 
any  emergency  or  time  of  special  need.  In  parting, 
I  have  one  favor  to  ask,  and  I  think  I  have  a  right 
to  ask  it.  I  wish  you  to  go  and  see  your  mo 
ther,  and  spend  at  least  an  hour  with  her  before 
she  returns  home.  As  a  matter  of  manly  duty,  be 
kind  and  gentle.  Remember  how  deeply  you  have 
wounded  her,  and  that  you  are  under  the  most  sacred 
obligations  to  endure  patiently  all  reproaches  and 
expressions  of  grief.  If  you  will  do  this  you  will  do 
much  to  regain  my  respect,  and  it  will  be  a  most  ex 
cellent  step  toward  a  better  life.  You  can  gain  so 
ciety's  respect  again  only  by  doing  your  duty,  and 
nothing  can  be  duty  more  plainly  than  this." 

After  a  moment's  hesitation  he  said,  "I  do  not 
think  an  interview  with  mother  now  will  do  either  of 
us  any  good  ;  but,  as  you  say,  you  have  a  right  to  ask 
this,  and  much  more,  of  me.  I  will  go  to  her  hotel 
and  do  the  best  I  can ;  but  somehow  mother  don't 
understand  human  nature — or,  at  least,  my  nature 
— and  when  I  have  been  doing  wrong  she  always 
makes  me  feel  like  doing  worse." 

"  If  you  are  to  succeed  in  your  endeavor  you  are 
not  to  act  as  you  feel.  You  are  to  do  right.  Remem 
ber  that  in  your  effort  to  win  the  position  you  wish 
in  this  city,  you  start  with  >  at  least  one  friend  to 
whom  you  can  always  come.  Good-by,"  and  Mrs. 
Arnot  returned  home  weary  and  sad  from  the  day's 
unforeseen  experiences. 

In  answer  to  Laura's  eager  questioning,  she  related 
what  had  happened  quite  fully,  vailing  only  that 


THE  IMPULSES  OF  WOUNDED  PRIDE.         177 

which  a  delicate  regard  for  others  would  lead  her  to 
pass  in  silence.  She  made  the  young  girl  womanly 
by  treating  her  more  as  a  woman  and  a  companion 
than  as  a  child.  In  Mrs.  Arnot's  estimation  her  niece 
had  reached  an  age  when  her  innocence  and  simpli 
city  could  not  be  maintained  by  efforts  to  keep  her 
shallow  and  ignorant,  but  by  revealing  to  her  life  in 
its  reality,  so  that  she  might  wisely  and  gladly  choose 
the  good  from  its  happy  contrast  with  evil  and  its 
inevitable  suffering. 

The  innocence  that  walks  blindly  on  amid  earth's 
snares  and  pitfalls  is  an  uncertain  possession;  the  in 
nocence  that  recognizes  evil,  but  turns  from  it  with 
dread  and  aversion,  is  priceless. 

Mrs.  Arnot  told  Laura  the  story  of  the  young 
man's  folly  substantially  as  he  had  related  it  to  her, 
but  she  skillfully  showed  how  one  comparatively 
venial  thing  had  led  to  another,  until  an  act  had  been 
committed  which  might  have  resulted  in  years  of 
imprisonment. 

"  Let  this  sad  and  miserable  affair  teach  you," 
said  she,  "  that  we  are  never  safe  when  we  commence 
to  do  wrong  or  act  foolishly.  We  can  never  tell  to 
what  disastrous  lengths  we  may  go  when  we  leave 
the  path  of  simple  duty." 

While  she  mentioned  Haldane's  resolution  to  re 
gain,  if  possible,  his  good  name  and  position,  she 
skillfully  removed  from  the  maiden's  mind  all  roman 
tic  notions  concerning  the  young  man  and  her  rela 
tion  to  his  conduct. 

Laura's  romantic  nature  would  always  be  a  source 
both  of  strength  and  weakness.  While,  on  the  one 


178     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

hand,  it  rendered  her  incapable  of  a  sordid  and  cal 
culating  scheme  of  life,  on  the  other,  it  might  lead  to 
feeling  and  action  prejudicial  to  her  happiness.  Mrs. 
Arnot  did  not  intend  that  she  should  brood  over 
Haldane  until  her  vivid  imagination  should  weave  a 
net  out  of  his  misfortunes  which  might  insnare  her 
heart.  It  was  best  for  Laura  that  she  should  receive 
her  explanations  of  life  in  very  plain  prose,  and  the 
picture  that  her  aunt  presented  of  Haldane  and  his 
prospects  was  prosaic  indeed.  He  was  shown  to  be 
but  an  ordinary  young  man,  with  more  than  ordinari 
ly  bad  tendencies.  While  she  commended  his  effort 
in  itself,  she  plainly  stated  how  wanting  it  was  in  the 
true  elements  of  success,  and  how  great  were  her 
fears  that  it  would  meet  with  utter  failure.  Thus 
the  affair  ended,  as  far  as  Laura  was  concerned,  in  a 
sincere  pity  for  her  premature  lover,  and  a  mild  and 
natural  interest  in  his  future  welfare — but  nothing 
more. 

Mr.  Arnot  uttered  an  imprecation  on  learning  that 
his  wife  had  gone  security  for  Haldane.  But  when 
he  found  that  she  had  acted  through  Mr.  Melville, 
in  such  a  way  that  the  fact  need  not  become  known, 
he  concluded  to  remain  silent  concerning  the  mat 
ter.  He  and  his  wife  met  at  the  dinner-table  that 
evening  as  if  nothing  unusual  had  occurred,  both 
having  concluded  to  ignore  all  that  had  transpired, 
if  possible.  Mrs.  Arnot  saw  that  her  husband  had 
only  acted  characteristically,  and,  from  his  point  of 
view,  correctly.  Perhaps  his  recent  experience  would 
prevent  him  from  being  unduly  harsh  again  should 
there  ever  be  similar  cause,  which  was  quite  improba- 


THE  IMPULSES  OF  WOUNDED  PRIDE. 


179 


ble.  Since  it  appeared  that  she  could  minister  to 
his  happiness  in  no  other  way  save  through  her 
property,  she  decided  to  leave  him  the  one  meager 
gratification  of  which  he  was  capable. 

The  future  in  its  general  aspects  may  here  be  an 
ticipated  by  briefly  stating  that  the  echoes  of  the 
affair  gradually  died  away.  Mr.  Arnot,  on  the  re 
ceipt  of  a  check  for  one  thousand  dollars  from  Mrs. 
Haldane's  lawyer,  was  glad  to  procure  Mr.  Melville's 
release  from  the  bond  for  which  his  wife  was  pledged, 
by  assuring  the  legal  authorities  that  he  would  not 
prosecute.  The  superior  young  man,  who  made  free 
drinks  the  ambition  of  his  life,  had  kept  himself  well 
informed,  and  on  learning  of  the  order  for  his  arrest 
left  town  temporarily  for  parts  unknown.  The  pa 
pers  made  the  most  of  the  sensation,  to  the  disgust 
of  all  concerned,  but  reference  to  the  affair  soon 
dwindled  down  to  an  occasional  paragraph.  The 
city  press  concluded  editorially  that  the  great  manu 
facturer  had  been  harsh  only  seemingly,  for  the  sake 
of  effect,  and  with  the  understanding  that  his  wife 
would  show  a  little  balancing  kindness  to  the  culprit 
and  his  aristocratic  mother.  That  Haldane  should 
still  remain  in  the  city  was  explained  on  the  ground 
that  he  was  ashamed  to  go  home,  or  that  he  was  not 
wanted  there. 


I  So    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

AT  ODDS  WITH  THE  WORLD. 

HALDANE  kept  his  promise  to  spend  an  hour 
with  his  mother.  While  he  told  her  the  truth 
concerning  his  folly,  he  naturally  tried  to  place  his 
action  in  the  best  light  possible.  After  inducing  her 
to  take  some  slight  refreshment,  he  obtained  a  close 
carriage,  and  saw  her  safely  on  the  train  which  would 
convey  her  to  the  city  wherein  she  resided.  During 
the  interview  she  grew  much  more  composed,  and 
quite  remorseful  that  she  had  not  shown  greater 
consideration  for  her  son's  feelings,  and  she  urged 
and  even  entreated  him  to  return  home  with  her. 
He  remained  firm,  however,  in  his  resolution,  and 
would  receive  from  her  only  a  very  small  sum  of 
money,  barely  enough  to  sustain  him  until  he  could 
look  around  for  employment. 

His  mother  shared  Mrs.  Arnot's  distrust,  greatly 
doubting  the  issue  of  his  large  hopes  and  vague 
plans  ;  but  she  could  only  assure  him  that  her  home, 
to  which  she  returned  crushed  and  disconsolate,  was 
also  his. 

But  he  felt  that  return  was  impossible.  He  would 
rather  wander  to  the  ends  .of  the  earth  than  shut 
himself  up  with  his  mother  and  sisters,  for  he  fore- 


AT  ODDS  WITH  THE  WORLD.  181 

saw  that  their  daily  moans  and  repinings  would  be 
daily  torture.  It  would  be  even  worse  to  appear 
among  his  old  acquaintances  and  companions,  and 
be  taunted  with  the  fact  that  his  first  venture  from 
home  ended  in  a  common  jail.  The  plan  of  drifting 
away  to  parts  unknown,  and  of  partially  losing  his 
identity  by  changing  his  name,  made  a  cold,  dreary 
impression  upon  him,  like  the  thought  of  annihila 
tion,  and  thus  his  purpose  of  remaining  in  Hillaton, 
and  winning  victory  on  the  very  ground  of  his  de 
feat,  grew  more  satisfactory. 

But  he  soon  began  to  learn  how  serious,  how  dis 
heartening,  is  the  condition  of  one  who  finds  society 
arrayed  against  him. 

It  is  the  fashion  to  inveigh  against  the  "  cold  and 
pitiless  world  ;  "  but  the  world  has  often  much  excuse 
for  maintaining  this  character.  As  society  is  now 
constituted,  the  consequences  of  wrong-doing  are 
usually  terrible  and  greatly  to  be  dreaded  ;  and  all 
who  have  unhealthful  cravings  for  forbidden  things 
should  be  made  to  realize  this.  Society  very  natu 
rally  treats  harshly  those  who  permit  their  pleasures 
and  passions  to  endanger  its  very  existence.  People 
who  have  toilsomely  and  patiently  erected  their 
homes  and  placed  therein  their  treasures  do  not  tol 
erate  with  much  equanimity  those  who  appear  to 
have  no  other  calling  than  -that  of  recklessly  playing 
with  fire.  The  well-to-do,  conservative  world  has  no 
inclination  to  make  things  pleasant  for  those  who 
propose  to  gratify  themselves  at  any  and  every  cost ; 
and  if  the  culprit  pleads,  "  I  did  not  realize — I  meant 
no  great  harm,"  the  retort  comes  back,  "But  you  do 


1 82     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

the  harm ;  you  endanger  every  thing.  If  you  have 
not  sense  or  principle  enough  to  act  wisely  and  well, 
do  not  expect  us  to  risk  our  fortunes  with  either 
fools  or  knaves."  And  the  man  or  the  woman  who 
has  preferred  pleasure  or  passing  gratification  or 
transient  advantage  to  that  priceless  possession,  a 
good  name,  has  little  ground  for  complaint.  If  so 
ciety  readily  condoned  those  grave  offenses  which 
threaten  chaos,  thousands  who  are  now  restrained 
by  salutary  fear  would  act  out  disastrously  the  evil 
lurking  in  their  hearts.  As  long  as  the  instinct  of 
self-preservation  remains,  the  world  will  seem  cold 
and  pitiless. 

And  so  it  often  is  to  a  degree  that  cannot  be  too 
severely  condemned.  The  world  is  the  most  soul 
less  of  all  corporations.  In  dealing  with  the  crimi 
nal  or  unfortunate  classes  it  generalizes  to  such  an 
extent  that  exceptional  cases  have  little  chance  of  a 
special  hearing.  If  by  any  means,  however,  such  a 
hearing  can  be  obtained,  the  world  is  usually  just, 
and  often  quite  generous.  But  in  the  main  it  says 
to  all :  "  Keep  your  proper  places  in  the  ranks.  If 
you  fall  out,  we  must  leave  you  behind  ;  if  you  make 
trouble,  we  must  abate  you  as  a  nuisance."  This 
certainty  has  the  effect  of  keeping  many  in  their 
places  who  otherwise  would  drop  out  and  make 
trouble,  and  is,  so  far,  wholesome.  And  yet,  in  spite 
of  this  warning  truth,  the  wayside  of  life  is  lined 
with  those  who,  for  some  reason,  have  become  dis 
abled  and  have  fallen  out  of  their  places  ;  and  miser 
ably  would  many  of  them  perish  did  not  the  Spirit 
of  Him  who  came  "  to  seek  and  save  the  lost "  ani- 


AT  ODDS  WITH  THE   WORLD.  ^3 

mate  true  followers  like  Mrs.  Arnot,  leading  them 
likewise  to  go  out  after  the  lame,  the  -wounded,  and 
the  morally  leprous. 

Haldane  was  sorely  wounded,  but  he  chose  to 
make  his  appeal  wholly  to  the  world.  Ignoring 
Heaven,  and  those  on  earth  representing  Heaven's 
forgiving  and  saving  mercy,  he  went  out  alone,  in 
the  spirit  of  pride  and  self-confidence,  to  deal  with 
those  who  would  meet  him  solely  on  the  ground  of 
self-interest.  How  this  law  works  against  such  as 
have  shown  themselves  unworthy  of  trust,  he  at  once 
began  to  receive  abundant  proof. 

He  returned  to  the  hotel  whence  he  had  just  taken 
his  mother,  but  the  proprietor  declined  to  give  him 
lodgings.  It  was  a  house  that  cherished  its  character 
for  quietness  and  eminent  respectability,  and  a  young 
gambler  and  embezzler  just  out  of  prison  would 
prove  an  ill-omened  guest.  On  receiving  a  cold  and 
peremptory  refusal  to  his  application,  and  in  the  pre 
sence  of  several  others,  Haldane  stalked  haughtily 
away  ;  but  there  was  misgiving  and  faintness  at  his 
heart.  Such  a  public  rebuff  was  a  new  and  strange 
experience. 

With  set  teeth  and  lips  compressed  he  next  re 
solved  to  go  to  the  very  hotel  where  he  had  commit 
ted  his  crime,  and  from  that  starting-point  fight  his 
way  up.  He  found  the  public  room  more  than  usual 
ly  well  filled  with  loungers,  and  could  not  help  discov 
ering,  as  he  entered,  that  he  was  the  subject  of  their 
loud  and  unsavory  conversation.  The  Evening  Spy 
had  just  been  read,  and  all  were  very  busy  discussing 
the  scandal.  As  the  knowledge  of  his  presence  and 


1 84     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

identity  was  speedily  conveyed  to  one  and  another 
in  loud  whispers, 'the  noisy  tongues  ceased,  and  the 
young  man  found  himself  the  center  of  an  embarrass 
ing  amount  of  observation.  But  he  endeavored  to 
give  the  idlers  a  defiant  and  careless  glance  as  he 
walked  up  to  the  proprietor  and  asked  for  a  room. 

"  No,  sir !  "  replied  that  virtuous  individual,  with 
sharp  emphasis  ;  "  you  have  had  a  room  of  me  once 
too  often.  It's  not  my  way  to  have  gamblers,  bloats, 
and  jail-birds  hanging  around  my  place, — '  not  if 
the  court  knows  herself;  and  she  thinks  she  does.' 
You've  done  all  you  could  to  give  my  respectable, 
first-class  house  the  name  of  being  a  gambling  hell, 
The  evening  paper  even  hints  that  some  one  connect 
ed  with  the  house  had  a  hand  in  your  being  plucked. 
You've  damaged  me  hundreds  of  dollars,  and  if  you 
ever  show  your  face  within  my  doors  again  I'll  have 
you  arrested." 

Haldane  was  stung  to  the  quick,  and  retorted 
vengefully  : 

"  Perhaps  the  paper  is  right.  I  was  introduced  to 
the  blacklegs  in  your  bar-room,  and  by  a  scamp  who 
was  a  habitual  lounger  here.  They  got  their  cards 
of  you,  and,  having  made  me  drunk,  and  robbed  me 
in  one  of  your  rooms,  they  had  no  trouble  in  getting 
away." 

"  Do  you  make  any  such  charge  against  me  ?  " 
bellowed  the  landlord,  starting  savagely  forward. 

11 1  say,  as  the  paper  says, perhaps"  replied  Hal 
dane,  standing  his  ground,  but  quivering  with  rage  ; 
"  I  shall  give  you  no  ground  for  a  libel  suit ;  but  if 
you  will  come  out  in  the  street  you  shall  have  all  the 


AT  ODDS  WITH  THE   WORLD.  185 

satisfaction  you  want ;  and  if  you  lay  the  weight  of 
your  finger  on  me  here,  I'll  damage  yo'u  worse  than 
I  did  last  night." 

"  How  dare  you  come  here  to  insult  me?"  said 
the  landlord,  but  keeping  now  at  a  safe  distance  from 
the  incensed  youth.  "  Some  one,  go  for  a  policeman, 
for  the  fellow  is  out  of  jail  years  too  soon." 

"  I  did  not  come  here  to  insult  you,  I  came,  as 
every  one  has  a  right  to  come,  to  ask  for  a  room,  for 
which  I  meant  to  pay  your  price,  and  you  insulted 
me." 

u  Well,  you  can't  have  a  room." 

"  If  you'  had  quietly  said  that  and  no  more  in  the 
first  place,  there  would  have  been  no  trouble.  But  I 
want  you  and  every  one  else  to  understand  that  I 
won't  be  struck,  if  I  am  down  ;  "  and  he  turned  on 
his  heel  and  strode  out  of  the  house,  followed  by  a 
volley  of  curses  from  the  enraged  landlord  and  the 
bar-tender,  who  had  smirked  so  agreeably  the  even 
ing  before. 

A  distorted  account  of  this  scene — published  in 
the  Courier  the  following  day,  in  connection  with  a 
detailed  account  of  the  whole  miserable  affair — added 
considerably  to  the  ill  repute  that  already  burdened 
Haldane  ;  for  it  was  intimated  that  he  was  as  ready 
for  a  street  brawl  as  for  any  other  species  of  lawless 
ness. 

The  Courier,  having  had  the  nose  of  its  represent 
ative  demolished  by  Haldane,  was  naturally  preju 
diced  against  him ;  and,  influenced  by  its  darkly- 
colored  narrative,  the  citizens  shook  their  heads  over 
the  young  man,  and  concluded  that  he  was  a  danger- 


1 86    ANIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

ous  character,  who  had  become  unnaturally  and  pre 
cociously  depraved  ;  and  there  was  quite  a  general 
hope  that  Mr.  Arnot  would  not  fail  to  prosecute,  so 
that  the  town  might  be  rid  of  one  who  promised  to 
continue  a  source  of  trouble. 

The  Spy,  a  rival  paper,  showed  a  tendency  to  dwell 
on  the  extenuating  circumstances.  But  it  is  so  much 
easier  for  a  community  to  believe  evil  rather  than 
good  of  a  person,  that  mere  excuses  and  apologies, 
and  the  suggestion  that  the  youth  had  been  victim 
ized,  had  little  weight.  Besides,  the  world  shows  a 
tendency  to  detest  weak  fools  even  more  than  knaves. 

After  his  last  bitter  experience  Haldane  felt  un 
willing  to  venture  to  another  hotel,  and  he  endeavor 
ed  to  find  a  quiet  boarding-place  ;  but  as  soon  as  he 
mentioned  his  name,  the  keepers,  male  and  female, 
suddenly  discovered  that  they  had  no  rooms.  Night 
was  near,  and  his  courage  was  beginning  to  fail  him, 
when  he  at  last  found  a  thrifty  gentlewoman  who 
gave  far  more  attention  to  her  housewifely  cares 
than  to  the  current  news.  She  readily  received  the 
well-dressed  stranger,  and  showed  him  to  his  room. 
Haldane  did  not  hide  his  name  from  her,  for  he  re 
solved  to  spend  the  night  in  the  street  before  drop 
ping  a  name  which  now  seemed  to  turn  people  from 
him  as  if  contagion  lurked  in  it,  and  he  was  relieved 
to  find  that,  as  yet,  it  had  to  her  no  disgraceful  asso 
ciations.  He  was  bent  on  securing  one  good  night's 
rest,  and  so  excused  himself  from  going  down  to 
supper,  lest  he  should  meet  some  one  that  knew  him. 
After  nightfall  he  slipped  out  to  an  obscure  restau 
rant  for  his  supper. 


AT  ODDS   WITH  THE    WORLD.  187 

His  precaution,  however,  was  vain,  for  on  his  re 
turn  to  his  room  he  encountered  in  a  hallway  one  of 
the  loungers  who  had  witnessed  the  recent  scene  at 
the  hotel.  After  a  second's  stare  the  man  passed  on 
down  to  the  shabby-genteel  parlor,  and  soon  whist, 
novels,  and  papers  were  dropped,  as  the  immaculate 
little  community  learned  of  the  contaminating  pres 
ence  beneath  the  same  roof  with  themselves. 

"  A  man  just  out  of  prison  !  A  man  merely  re 
leased  on  bail,  and  who  would  certainly  be  convicted, 
when  tried  !  " 

With  a  virtue  which  might  have  put  "  Caesar's 
wife  "  to  the  blush,  sere  and  withered  gentlewomen 
pursed  up  their  mouths,  and  declared  that  they 
could  not  sleep  in  the  same  house  with  such  a  dis 
reputable  person.  The  thrifty  landlady,  whose  prin 
ciple  of  success  was  the  concentration  of  all  her  fac 
ulties  on  the  task  of  satisfying  the  digestive  organs 
of  her  patrons,  found  herself  for  once  at  fault,  and 
she  was  quite  surprised  to  learn  what  a  high-toned 
class  of  people  she  was  entertaining. 

But,  then,  "  business  is  business."  Poor  Haldane 
was  but  one  uncertain  lodger,  and  here  were  a  dozen 
or  more  "  regulars  "  arrayed  against  him.  The  sa 
gacious  woman  was  not  long  in  climbing  to  the  door 
of  the  obnoxious  guest,  and  her  very  knock  said, 
"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

Haldane's  first  thought  was,  "  She  is  a  woman ; 
she  will  not  have  the  heart  to  turn  me  away."  He 
had  become  so  weary  and  disheartened  that  his 
pride  was  failing  him,  and  he  was  ready  to  plead  for 
the  chance  of  a  little  rest.  Therefore  he  opened  the 


1 88    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

door,  and  invited  the  landlady  to  enter  in  the  most 
conciliating  manner.  But  no  such  poor  chaff  would 
be  of  any  avail  with  one  of  Mrs.  Gruppins'  experi 
ence,  and  looking  straight  before  her,  as  if  address 
ing  no  one  in  particular,  she  said  sententiously  : 

11 1  wish  this  room  vacated  within  a  half  hour." 

"  If  you  have  the  heart  of  a  woman  you  will  not 
send  me  out  this  rainy  night.  I  am  weary  and  sick 
in  body  and  mind.  I  wouldn't  turn  a  dog  out  in  the 
night  and  storm." 

"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  sir,"  said 
Mrs.  Gruppins,  turning  on  him  indignantly ;  "  to  think 
that  you  should  take  advantage  of  a  poor  and  de 
fenseless  widow,  and  me  so  inexperienced  and  igno 
rant  of  the  wicked  world." 

"  I  did  not  take  advantage  of  your  ignorance.  I 
told  you  who  I  was,  and  am  able  to  pay  for  the 
room.  In  the  morning  I  will  leave  your  house,  if 
you  have  so  much  objection  to  my  remaining." 

11  Why  shouldn't  I  object?  I  never  had  such  as 
you  here  before.  All  my  boarders  " — she  added  in 
a  louder  tone,  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  were  lis 
tening  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs — "  all  my  boarders 
are  peculiarly  respectable  people,  and  I  would  not 
have  them  scandalized  by  your  presence  here  another 
minute  if  I  could  help  it." 

"  How  much  do  I  owe  you  ?  "  asked  Haldane,  in 
a  tone  that  was  harsh  from  its  suppressed  emotion. 

"  I  don't  want  any  of  your  money — I  don't  want 
any  thing  to  do  with  people  who  are  lodged  at  the 
expense  of  the  State.  If  you  took  money  last  night, 
there  is  no  telling  what  you  will  take  to-night." 


AT  ODDS    WITH   THE,  WORLD.  i$g 

Haldane  snatched  his  hat  and  rushed  from  the 
house,  overwhelmed  with  a  deeper  and  more  terrible 
sense  of  shame  and  degradation  than  he  had  ever 
imagined  possible.  He  had  become  a  pariah,  and 
in  bitterness  of  heart  was  realizing  the  truth. 


190    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
THE  WORLD'S  VERDICT — OUR  KNIGHT  A  CRIMINAL. 

A  FEW  moments  before  his  interview  with  the 
thrifty  and  respectable  Mrs.  Gruppins,  Haldane 
had  supposed  himself  too  weary  to  drag  one  foot 
after  the  other  in  search  of  another  resting-place  ; 
and  therefore  his  eager  hope  that  that  obdurate  fe 
male  might  not  be  gifted  with  the  same  quality  of 
"  in'ards  "  which  Pat  M'Cabe  ascribed  to  Mr.  Ar- 
not.  He  had,  indeed,  nearly  reached  the  limit  of 
endurance,  for  had  he  been  in  his  best  and  most  vig 
orous  condition,  a  day  which  taxed  so  terribly  both 
body  and  mind  would  have  drained  his  vitality  to 
the  point  of  exhaustion.  As  it  was,  the  previous 
night's  debauch  told  against  him  like  a  term  of  ill 
ness.  He  had  since  taken  food  insufficiently  and 
irregularly,  and  was,  therefore,  in  no  condition  to 
meet  the  extraordinary  demands  of  the  ordeal 
through  which  he  was  passing.  Mental  distress, 
moreover,  is  far  more  wearing  than  physical  effort ; 
and  his  anguish  of  mind  had  risen  several  times  dur 
ing  the  day  almost  to  frenzy. 

In  spite  of  all  this,  the  sharp  and  pitiless  tongue 
of  Mrs.  Gruppins  goaded  him  again  to  the  verge 
of  desperation,  and  he  strode  rapidly  and  aimlessly 


THE  WORLD'S  VERDICT.  191 

away,  through  the  night  and  storm,  with  a  wilder 
tempest  raging  in  his  breast.  But  the  gust  of  feel 
ing  died  away  as  suddenly  as  it  had  arisen,  and  left 
him  ill  and  faint.  A  telegraph  pole  was  near,  and 
he  leaned  against  it  for  support. 

"  Move  on,"  growled  a  passing  policeman. 

"  Will  you  do  me  a  kindness  ?  "  asked  Haldane  ;  "  I 
am  poor  and  sick — a  stranger.  Tell  me  where  I  can 
hire  a  bed  for  a  small  sum." 

The  policeman  directed  him  down  a  side  street, 
saying,  "You  can  get  a  bed  at  No.  13,  and  no  ques 
tions  asked." 

There  was  unspeakable  comfort  in  the  last  assur 
ance,  for  it  now  seemed  that  he  could  only  hope  to 
find  a  refuge  in  places  where  "  no  questions  were 
asked." 

With  difficulty  the  weary  youth  reached  the  house, 
and  by  paying  a  small  extra  sum  was  able  to  obtain 
a  wretched  little  room  to  himself;  but  never  did 
storm-tossed  and  endangered  sailors  enter  a  harbor's 
quiet  waters  with  a  greater  sense  of  relief  than  did 
Haldane  as  he  crept  up  into  this  squalid  nook,  which 
would  at  least  give  him  a  little  respite  from  the 
world's  terrible  scorn. 

What  a  priceless  gift  for  the  unhappy,  the  unfor 
tunate, — yes,  and  for  the  guilty, — is  sleep!  Many 
seem  to  think  of  the  body  only  as  a  clog,  impeding 
mental  action, — as  a  weight,  chaining  the  spirit  down. 
Were  the  mind,  in  its  activity,  independent  of  the 
body — were  the  wounded  spirit  unable  to  forget  its 
pain — could  the  guilty  conscience  sting  incessantly — • 
then  the  chief  human  industry  would  come  to  be  the 


1 92     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

erection  of  asylums  for  the  insane.  But  by  an  un 
fathomable  mystery  the  tireless  regal  spirit  has  been 
blended  with  the  flesh  and  blood  of  its  servant,  the 
body.  In  heaven,  where  there  is  neither  sin  nor  pain, 
even  the  body  becomes  spiritual ;  but  on  earth,  where 
it  so  often  happens,  as  in  the  case  of  poor  Haldane, 
that  to  think  and  to  remember  is  torture,  it  is  a  bless 
ed  thing  that  the  body,  formed  from  the  earth,  often 
becomes  heavy  as  earth,  and  rests  upon  the  spirit  for 
a  few  hours  at  least,  like  the  clods  with  which  we  fill 
the  grave. 

The  morning  of  the  following  day  was  quite  well 
advanced  when  Haldane  awoke  from  his  long  obli 
vion,  and,  after  regaining  consciousness,  he  lay  a  full 
hour  longer  trying  to  realize  his  situation,  and  to 
think  of  some  plan  by  which  he  might  best  recover 
his  lost  position.  As  he  recalled  all  that  had  occur 
red  he  began  to  understand  the  extreme  difficulty  of 
-his  task,  and  he  even  queried  whether  it  were  pos 
sible  for  him  to  succeed.  If  the  respectable  would 
not  even  give  him  shelter,  how  could  he  hope  that 
they  would  employ  and  trust  him? 

After  he  had  partaken-  of  quite  a  hearty  breakfast, 
however,  his  fortunes  began  to  wear  a  less  forbidding 
aspect.  Endowed  with  youth,  health,  and,  as  he 
believed,  with  more  than  usual  ability,  he  felt  that 
there  was  scarcely  occasion  for  despair.  Some  one 
would  employ  him — some  one  would  give  him  an 
other  chance.  He  would  take  any  respectable  work 
that  would  give  him  a  foothold,  and  by  some  vague, 
fortunate  means,  which  the  imagination  of  the  young 
always  supplies,  he  would  achieve  success  that  would 


THE  WORLD'S  VERDICT.  193 

obliterate  the  memory  of  the  past.  Therefore,  with 
flashes  of  hope  in  his  heart,  he  started  out  fro  seek 
his  fortune,  and  commenced  applying  at  the  various 
stores  and  offices  of  the  city. 

So  far  from  giving  any  encouragement,  people  were 
much  surprised  that  he  had  the  assurance  to  ask  to 
be  employed  and  trusted  again.  The  majority  dis 
missed  him  coldly  and  curtly.  A  few  mongrel  na 
tures,  true  to  themselv.es,  gave  a  snarling  refusal. 
Then  there  were  jovial  spirits  who  must  have  their 
jest,  even  though  the  sensitive  subject  of  it  was  tor 
tured  thereby — men  who  enjoyed  quizzing  Haldane 
before  sending  him  on,  as  much  as  the  old  inquisi 
tors  relished  a  little  recreation  with  hot  pincers  and 
thumb-screws.  There  were  also  conscientious  people, 
whose  worldly  prudence  prevented  them  from  giving 
employment  to  one  so  damaged  in  character,  and  yet 
who  felt  constrained  to  give  some  good  advice.  To 
this,  it  must  be  confessed,  Haldane  listened  with 
very  poor  grace,  thus  extending  the  impression  that 
he  was  a  rather  hopeless  subject. 

"Good  God!"  he  exclaimed,  interrupting  an  old 
gentleman  who  was  indulging  in  some  platitudes  to 
the  effect  that  the  "  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard  " 
— "  I  would  rather  black  your  boots  than  listen  to  such 
talk.  What  I  want  is  work — a  chance  to  live  honestly. 
What's  the  use  of  telling  a  fellow  not  to  go  to  the 
devil,  and  then  practically  send  him  to  the  devil  ?" 

The  old  gentleman  was  somewhat  shocked  and 
offended,  and  coldly  intimated  that  he  had  no  need 
of  the  young  man's  services. 

A  few  spoke  kindly  and  seemed  truly  sorry  for 


I94    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

him,  but  they  either  had  no  employment  to  give,  or, 
on  business  principles,  felt  that  they  could  not  intro 
duce  among  their  other  assistants  one  under  bonds 
to  appear  and  be  tried  for  a  State-prison  offense  that 
was  already  the  same  as  proved. 

After  receiving  rebuffs,  and  often  what  he  regarded 
as  insults,  for  hours,  the  young  man's  hope  began  to 
fail  him  utterly.  His  face  grew  pale  and  haggard, 
not  only  from  fatigue,  but  from  that  which  tells  dis 
astrously  almost  as  soon  upon  the  body  as  upon  the 
mind — discouragement.  He  saw  that  he  had  not  yet 
fully  realized  the  consequences  of  his  folly.  The  deep 
and  seemingly  implacable  resentment  of  society  was 
a  continued  surprise.  He  was  not  conscious  of  being 
a  monster  of  wickedness,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that 
after  his  bitter  experience  he  would  rather  starve 
than  again  touch  what  was  not  his  own. 

But  the  trouble  is,  the  world  does  not  give  us  much 
credit  for  what  we  think,  feel,  and  imagine,  even  if 
aware  of  our  thoughts.  It  is  what  we  do  that  forms 
public  opinion  ;  and  it  was  both  natural  and  just  that 
the  public  should  have  a  very  decided  opinion  of  one 
who  had  recently  shown  himself  capable  of  gamb 
ling,  drunkenness,  and  practical  theft. 

And  yet  the  probabilities  were  that  if  some  kind, 
just  man  had  bestowed  upon  Haldane  both  employ 
ment  and  trust,  with  a  chance  to  rise,  his  bitter  les 
son  would  have  made  him  scrupulously  careful  to 
shun  his  peculiar  temptations  from  that  time  for 
ward.  But  the  world  usually  regards  one  who  has 
committed  a  crime  as  a  criminal,  and  treats  him  as 
such.  It  cannot,  if  it  would,  nicely  calculate  the  hid- 


THE   WORLD'S  VERDICT.  195 

den  moral  state  and  future  chances.  It  acts  on  sound 
generalities,  regardless  of  the  exceptions ;  and  thus 
it  often  happens  that  men  and  women  who  at  first 
can  scarcely  understand  the  world's  adverse  opinion, 
are  disheartened  by  it,  and  at  last  come  to  merit  the 
worst  that  can  be  said  or  thought. 

As,  at  the  time  of  his  first  arrest,  Haldane  had 
found  his  eyes  drawn  by  a  strange,  cruel  fascination 
to  every  scornful  or  curious  face  upon  the  street,  so 
now  he  began  to  feel  a  morbid  desire  to  know  just 
what  people  were  saying  and  thinking  of  him.  He 
purchased  both  that  day's  papers  and  those  of  the 
previous  day,  and,  finding  a  little  out-of-the-way 
restaurant  kept  by  a  foreigner,  he  "  supped  full  with  " 
— what  were  to  him  emphatically — "horrors;"  the 
dinner  and  supper  combined,  which  he  had  ordered, 
growing  cold,  in  the  meantime,  and  as  uninviting  as 
the  place  in  which  it  was  served. 

His  eyes  dwelt  longest  upon  those  sentences  which 
were  the  most  unmercifully  severe,  and  they  seemed 
to  burn  their  way  into  his  very  soul.  Was  he  in 
truth  such  a  miscreant  as  the  Courier  described  ? 
Mrs.  Arnot  had  not  shrunk  from  him  as  from  contam 
ination  ;  but  she  was  different  from  all  other  people 
that  he  had  known  ;  and  he  now  remembered,  also, 
that  even  she  always  referred  to  his  act  in  a  grave, 
troubled  way,  as  if  both  its  character  and  conse 
quences  were  serious  indeed. 

There  was  such  a  cold,  leaden  despondency  bur 
dening  his  heart  that  he  felt  that  he  must  have  relief 
of  some  kind.  Although  remembering  his  rash  in 
vocation  of  fatal  consequences  to  himself  should  he 


196     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

touch  again  that  which  had  brought  him  so  much 
evil,  he  now,  with  a  reckless  oath,  muttered  that  he 
"  needed  some  liquor,  and  would  have  it." 

Having  finished  a  repast  from  which  he  would 
have  turned  in  disgust  before  his  fortunes  had  so 
greatly  altered,  and  having  gained  a  little  temporary 
courage  from  the  more  than  doubtful  brandy  served 
in  such  a  place,  he  obtained  permission  to  sit  by  the 
fire  and  smoke  away  the  blustering  evening,  for  he 
felt  no  disposition  to  face  the  world  again  that  day. 
The  German  proprietor  and  his  beer-drinking  patrons 
paid  no  attention  to  the  stranger,  and  as  he  sat  off 
on  one  side  by  himself  at  a  table,  with  a  mug  of  lager 
before  him,  he  was  practically  as  much  alone,  and  as 
lonely,  as  if  in  a  desert. 

In  a  dull,  vague  way  it  occurred  to  him  that  it  was 
very  fitting  that  those  present  should  speak  in  a 
foreign  and  unknown  tongue,  and  act  and  look  differ 
ently  from  all  classes  of  people  formerly  known  to 
him.  He  was  in  a  different  world,  and  it  was  appro 
priate  that  every  thing  should  appear  strange  and 
unfamiliar. 

Finding  that  he  could  have  a  room  in  this  same 
little,  dingy  restaurant-hotel,  where  he  had  obtained 
his  supper,  he  resolved  that  he  would  torture  him 
self  no  more  that  night  with  thoughts  of  the  past  or 
future,  but  slowly  stupefy  himself  into  sleep. 


THE  WORLD'S  BEST  OFFER— A  PRISON. 


197 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
TifE  WORLD'S  BEST  OFFER — A  PRISON. 

AFTER  a  walk  in  the  sweet  April  sunshine  the 
following  morning,  a  hearty  breakfast,  and  a 
general  rallying  of  the  elastic  forces  of  youth,  Hal- 
dane  felt  that  he  had  not  yet  reached  the  "  brink  of 
dark  despair." 

Indeed,  he  had  an  odd  sense  of  pride  that  he  had 
survived  the  ordeal  of  the  last  two  days,  and  still 
felt  as  well  as  he  did.  Although  it  was  but  an  Arab's 
life,  in  which  every  man's  hand  seemed  against  him, 
yet  he  still  lived,  and  concluded  that  he  could  con 
tinue  to  live  indefinitely. 

He  did  not  go  out  again,  as  on  the  previous  day, 
to  seek  employment,  but  sat  down  and  tried  to  think 
his  way  into  the  future  somewhat. 

The  first  question  that  presented  itself  was,  Should 
he  in  any  contingency  return  home  to  his  mother? 

He  was  not  long  in  deciding  adversely,  for  it 
seemed  to  him  to  involve  such  a  bitter  mortification 
that  he  felt  he  would  rather  starve. 

Should  he  send  to  her  for  money? 

That  would  be  scarcely  less  humiliating,  for  it  was 
equivalent  to  a  confession  that  he  could  not  even 
take  care  of  himself,  much  less  achieve  all  the  brave 


198     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

things  he  had  intimated.  He  was  still  more  averse 
to  going  to  Mrs.  Arnot  for  what  would  seem  charity 
to  her  husband  and  to  every  one  else  who  might  hear 
of  it.  The  probability,  also,  that  Laura  would  learn 
of  such  an  appeal  for  aid  made  him  scout  the  very 
thought. 

Should  he  go  away  among  strangers,  change  his 
name,  and  commence  life  anew,  unburdened  by  the 
weight  which  now  dragged  him  down  ? 

The  thought  of  cutting  himself  off  utterly  from 
all  whom  he  knew,  or  who  cared  for  him,  caused  a 
cold,  shivering  sense  of  dread.  It  would,  also,  be  a 
confession  of  defeat,  an  acknowledgment  that  he 
could  not  accomplish  what  he  had  promised  to  him 
self  and  to  others.  He  had,  moreover,  sufficient 
forethought  to  perceive  that  any  success  which  he 
might  achieve  elsewhere,  and  under  another  name, 
would  be  such  a  slight  and  baseless  fabric  that  a 
breath  from  one  who  now  knew  him  could  overturn 
it.  He  might  lead  an  honorable  life  for  years,  and 
yet  no  one  would  believe  him  honorable  after  discov 
ering  that  he  was  living  under  an  alias  and  conceal 
ing  a  crime.  If  he  could  build  himself  up  in  Hillaton 
he  would  be  founded  on  the  rock  of  truth,  and  need 
'fear  no  disastrous  reverses  from  causes  against  which 
he  could  not  guard. 

Few  can  be  more  miserable  than  those  who  hold 
their  fortunes  and  good  name  on  sufferance — safe 
only  in  the  power  and  disposition  of  others  to  keep 
some  wretched  secret ;  and  he  is  but  little  better  off 
who  fears  that  every  stranger  arriving  in  town  may 
recognize  in  his  face  the  features  of  one  that,  years 


THE   WORLD'S  BEST  OFFER— A  PRISON.        199 

before,  by  reason  of  some  disgraceful  act,  fled  from 
himself  and  all  who  knew  him.  The  more  Haldane 
thought  upon  the  scheme  of  losing  his  identity,  and 
of  becoming  that  vague,  and,  as  yet,  unnamed  stran 
ger,  who  after  years  of  exile  would  still  be  himself, 
though  to  the  world  not  himself,  the  less  attractive 
it  became. 

He  finally  concluded  that,  as  he  had  resolved  to 
remain  in  Hillaton,  he  would  keep  his  resolution, 
and  that,  as  he  had  plainly  stated  his  purpose  to  lift 
himself  up  by  his  own  unaided  efforts,  he  would  do 
so  if  it  were  possible ;  and  if  it  were  not,  he  would 
live  the  life  of  a  laborer — a  tramp,  even — rather  than 
"  skulk  back,"  as  he  expressed  it,  to  those  who  were 
once  kindred  and  companions. 

"  If  I  cannot  walk  erect  to  their  front  doors,  I  will 
never  crawl  around  to  the  back  entrances.  If  I  ever 
must  take  alms  to  keep  from  starving,  it  will  be  from 
strangers.  I  shall  never  inflict  myself  as  a  dead 
weight  and  a  painfully-tolerated  infamy  on  any  one. 
I  was  able  to  get  myself  into  this  disgusting  slough, 
and  if  I  haven't  brains  and  pluck  enough  to  get  my 
self  out,  I  will  remain  at  this,  my  level,  to  which  I 
have  fallen." 

Thus  pride  still  counseled  and  controlled,  and  yet 
it  was  a  kind  of  pride  that  inspires  something  like 
respect*  It  proved  that  there  was  much  good  metal 
in  the  crude,  misshapen  ore  of  his  nature. 

But  the  necessity  of  doing  something  was  urgent, 
for  the  sum  he  had  been  willing  to  receive  from  his 
mother  was  small,  and  rapidly  diminishing. 

Among  the  possible  activities  in  which  he  might 


200    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

engage,  that  of  writing  for  papers  and  magazines 
occurred  to  him,  and  the  thought  at  once  caught  and 
fired  his  imagination.  The  mysteries  of  the  literary 
world  were  the  least  known  to  him,  and  therefore  it 
offered  the  greatest  amount  of  vague  promise  and 
indefinite  hope.  Here  a  path  might  open  to  both 
fame  and  fortune.  The  more  he  dwelt  on  the  possi 
bility  the  more  it  seemed  to  take  the  aspect  of  proba 
bility.  Under  the  signature  of  E.  H.  he  would  write 
thrilling  tales,  until  the  public  insisted  upon  knowing 
the  great  unknown.  Then  he  could  reverse  present 
experience  by  scorning  those  who  had  scorned  him. 
He  recalled  all  that  he  had  ever  read  about  genius 
toiling  in  its  attic  until  the  world  was  compelled  to 
recognize  and  do  homage  to  the  regal  mind.  He 
would  remain  in  seclusion  also;  he  would  burn  mid 
night  oil  until  he  should  come  to  be  known  as  Hal- 
dane  the  brilliant  writer  instead  of  Haldane  the 
gambler,  drunkard,  and  thief, 

All  on  fire  with  his  new  project,  he  sallied  forth  to 
the  nearest  news  stand,  and  selected  two  or  three 
papers  and  magazines,  whose  previous  interest  to 
him  and  known  popularity  suggested  that  they  were 
the  best  mediums  in  which  he  could  rise  upon  the 
public  as  a  literary  star,  all  the  more  attractive  be 
cause  unnamed  and  unknown. 

His  next  proceeding  indicated  a  commendable 
amount  of  shrewdness,  and  proved  that  his  roseate 
visions  resulted  more  from  ignorance  and  inexperi 
ence  than  from  innate  foolishness.  He  carefully 
read  the  periodicals  he  had  bought,  in  the  hope  of 
obtaining  hints  and  suggestions  from  their  contents, 


THE   WORLD'S  BEST  OFFER— A  PRISON.        20 1 

which  would  aid  him  in  producing  acceptable  manu 
scripts.  Some  of  the  sketches  and  stories  appeared 
very  simple,  the  style  flowing  along  as  smoothly  and 
limpidly  as  a  summer  brook  through  the  meadows. 
He  did  not  see  why  he  could  not  write  in  a  similar 
vein,  perhaps  more  excitingly  and  interestingly.  In 
his  partial  and  neglected  course  of  study  he  had  not 
given  much  attention  to  belles-lettres,  and  was  not 
aware  that  the  simplicity  and  lucid  purity  of  thought 
which  made  certain  pages  so  easily  read  were  pro 
duced  by  the  best  trained  and  most  cultured  talent 
existing  among  the  regular  contributors. 

He  spent  the  evening  and  the  greater  part  of  a 
sleepless  night  in  constructing  a  crude  plot  of  a  story, 
and,  having  procured  writing  materials,  hastened 
through  an  early  breakfast,  the  following  morning, 
in  his  eagerness  to  enter  on  what  now  seemed  a 
shining  path  to  fame. 

He  sat  down  and  dipped  his  pen  in  ink.  The 
blank,  white  page  was  before  him,  awaiting  his  bril 
liant  and  burning  thoughts  ;  but  for  some  reason  they 
did  not  and  would  not  come.  This  puzzled  him. 
He  could  dash  off  a  letter,  and  write  with  ease  a 
plain  business  statement.  Why  could  he  not  com 
mence  and  go  on  with  his  story? 

"How  do  those  other  fellows  commence?"  he 
mentally  queried,  and  he  again  carefully  read  and 
examined  the  opening  paragraphs  of  two  or  three 
tales  that  had  pleased  him.  They  seemed  to  com 
mence  and  go  forward  very  easily  and  naturally. 
Why  could  not  he  do  the  same  ? 

To  his  dismay  he  found  that  he  could  not.     He. 


202     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

might  as  well  have  sat  down  and  hoped  to  have 
deftly  and  skillfully  constructed  a  watch  as  to  have 
imitated  the  style  of  the  stories  that  most  interested 
him,  for  he  had  never  formed  even  the  power,  much 
less  the  habit,  of  composition. 

After  a  few  labored  and  inconsequential  sentences, 
which  seemed  like  crude  ore  instead  of  the  molten, 
burning  metal  of  thought  left  to  cool  in  graceful 
molds,  he  threw  aside  his  pen  in  despair. 

After  staring  despondently  for  a  time  at  the  blank 
page,  which  now  promised  to  remain  as  blank  as  the 
future  then  seemed,  the  fact  suddenly  occurred  to 
him  that  even  genius  often  spurred  its  flagging  or 
dormant  powers  by  stimulants.  Surely,  then,  he,  in 
his  pressing  emergency,  had  a  right,  to  avail  himself 
of  this  aid.  A  little  brandy  might  awaken  his  imagi 
nation,  which  would  then  kindle  with  his  theme. 

At  any  rate,  he  had  no  objection  to  the  brandy, 
and  with  this  inspiration  he  again  resumed  his  pen. 
He  was  soon  astonished  and  delighted  with  the 
result,  for  he  found  himself  writing  with  ease  and 
fluency.  His  thoughts  seemed  to  become  vivid  and 
powerful,  and  his  story  grew  rapidly.  As  body  and 
mind  flagged,  the  potent  genii  in  the  black  bottle 
again  lifted  and  soared1  on  with  him  until  the  marvel 
ous  tale  was  completed. 

He  decided  to  correct  the  manuscript  on  the  fol 
lowing  day,  and  was  so  complacent  and  hopeful  over 
his  performance  that  he  scarcely  noted  that  he  was 
beginning  to  feel  wretchedly  from  the  inevitable  re 
action.  The  next  day,  with  dull  and  aching  head, 
he  tried  to  read  what  he  had  written,  but  found  it 


THE   WORLD'S  BEST  OFFER— A  PRISON. 


203 


dreary  and  disappointing  work.  His  sentences  and 
paragraphs  appeared  like  clouds  from  which  the 
light  had  faded  ;  but  he  explained  this  fact  to  him 
self  on  the  ground  of  his  depressed  physical  state, 
and  he  went  through  his  task  with  dogged  persist 
ence. 

He  felt  better  on  the  following  day,  and  with  the 
aid  of  the  bottle  he  resolved  to  give  his  inventive 
genius  another  flight.  On  this  occasion  he  would 
attempt  a  longer  story — one  that  would  occupy  him 
several  days ;  and  he  again  stimulated  himself  up  to 
a  condition  in  which  he  found  at  least  no  lack  of 
words.  When  he  attained  what  he  supposed  was 
his  best  mood,  he  read  over  again  the  work  of  the 
preceding  day,  and  was  delighted  to  find  that  it  now 
glowed  with  prismatic  hues.  In  his  complacency  he 
at  once  dispatched  it  to  the  paper  for  which  it  was 
designed. 

Three  or  four  days  of  alternate  work  and  brooding 
passed,  and  if  various  and  peculiar  moods  prove  the 
possession  of  genius,  Haldane  certainly  might  claim 
it.  Between  his  sense  of  misfortune  and  disgrace, 
and  the  fact  that  his  funds  were  becoming  low,  on 
one  hand,  and  his  towering  hopes  and  shivering  fears 
concerning  his  literary  ventures,  on  the  other,  he 
was  emphatically  in  what  is  termed  "  a  state  of 
mind  "  continuously.  These  causes  alone  were  suffi 
cient  to  make  mental  serenity  impossible  ;  but  the 
after-effects  of  the  decoction  from  which  he  obtained 
his  inspiration  were  even  worse,  and  after  a  week's 
work  the  thought  occurred  to  him  more  than  once 
that,  if  he  pursued  a  literary  life,  either  his  genius  or 


204     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

that  which  he  imbibed  as  its  spur  would  consume 
him  utterly. 

By  the  time  the  first  two  stories  were  finished  he 
found  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  supplement  the 
labors  of  his  pen.  He  would  have  to  wait  at  least  a 
few  days  before  he  could  hope  for  any  returns,  even 
though  he  had  urged  in  his  accompanying  notes 
prompt  acceptance  and  remittance  for  their  value. 

He  went  to  the  office  of  the  Evening  Spy,  the 
paper  'which  had  shown  some  leniency  toward 
him,  and  offered  his  services  as  writer,  or  reporter ; 
and,  although  taught  by  harsh  experience  not  to 
hope  for  very  much,  he  was  a  little  surprised  at  the 
peremptory  manner  in  which  his  services  were  de 
clined.  His  face  seemed  to  ask  an  explanation,  and 
the  editor  said  briefly, 

"  We  did  not  bear  down  very  hard  on  you — it's  not 
our  custom  ;  but  both  inclination  and  necessity  lead 
us  to  require  that  every  one  and  every  thing  con 
nected  with  this  paper  should  be  eminently  respect 
able  and  deserving  of  respect.  Good  morning,  sir." 

Haldane's  pre-eminence  consisted  only  in  his  lack 
of  respectability ;  and  after  the  brave  visions  of  the 
past  week,  based  on  his  literary  toil,  this  cool,  sharp- 
cut  statement  of  society's  opinion  quenched  about 
all  hope  of  ever  rising  by  first  gaining  recognition 
and  employment  among  those  whose  position  was 
similar  to  what  his  own  had  been.  As  he  plodded 
his  way  back  to  the  miserable  little  foreign  restau 
rant,  his  mind  began  to  dwell  on  this  question, 

"  Is  there  any  place  in  the  world  for  one  who  has 
committed  a  crime,  save  a  prison  ?  " 


MAIDEN  AND   WOOD-SA  WYER.  205 


CHAPTER  XX. 

MAIDEN  AND    WOOD-SAWYER. 

BEFORE  utterly  abandoning  all  hope  of  finding 
employment  that  should  in  some  small  degree 
preserve  an  air  of  respectability,  Haldane  resolved 
to  give  up  one  more  day  to  the  search,  and  on  the 
following  morning  he  started  out  and  walked  until 
night-fall.  He  even  offered  to  take  the  humblest 
positions  that  would  insure  him  a  support  and  some 
recognition ;  but  the  record  of  his  action  while  in 
Mr.  Arnot's  employ  followed  him  everywhere,  creat 
ing  sufficient  prejudice  in  every  case  to  lead  to  a  re 
fusal  of  his  application.  Some  said  "  No  "  reluctant 
ly  and  hesitatingly,  as  if  kindly  feelings  within  took 
the  young  man's  part ;  but  they  said  it,  nevertheless. 

For  the  patient  resolution  with  which  he  continued 
to  apply  to  all  kinds  of  people  and  places,  hour  after 
hour,  in  spite  of  such  disheartening  treatment,  he 
deserved  much  praise  ;  but  he  did  not  receive  any ; 
and  at  last,  weary  and  despondent,  he  returned  to 
his  miserable  lodgings.  He  was  so  desperately  de 
pressed  in  body  and  mind  that  the  contents  of  the 
black  bottle  seemed  his  only  resource. 

Such  a  small  sum  now  remained  that  he  felt  that 
something  must  be  done  instantly.  He  concluded 


206     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

that  his  only  course  now  was  to  go  out  and  pick  up 
any  odd  bits  of  work  that  he  could  find.  He  hoped 
that  by  working  half  the  time  he  might  make  enough 
to  pay  for  his  board  at  his  present  cheap  lodging- 
place.  This  would  leave  him  time  to  continue  his 
writing,  and  in  the  course  of  a  week  more  he  would 
certainly  hear  from  the  manuscripts  already  forward 
ed.  On  these  he  now  built  nearly  all  his  hope.  If 
they  were  well  received  and  paid  for,  he  considered 
his  fortunes  substantially  restored,  and  fame  almost 
a  certainty  in  the  future.  If  he  could  only  produce 
a  few  more  manuscripts,  and  bridge  over  the  inter 
vening  time  until  he  could  hear  from  them,  he  felt 
that  his  chief  difficulties  would  be  past. 

Having  decided  to  do  a  laborer's  work,  he  at  once 
resolved  to  exchange  his  elegant  broadcloth  for 
a  laborer's  suit,  and  he  managed  this  transfer  so 
shrewdly  that  he  obtained  quite  a  little  sum  of 
money  in  addition. 

It  was  well  that  he  did  replenish  his  finances  some 
what,  for  his  apparently  phlegmatic  landlord  was  as 
wary  as  a  veteran  mouser  in  looking  after  his  small 
interests.  He  had  just  obtained  an  inkling  as  to 
Haldane's  identity,  and,  while  he  was  not  at  all 
chary  concerning  the  social  and  moral  standing  of 
his  few  uncertain  lodgers,  he  proposed  henceforth 
that  all  transactions  with  the  suspicious  stranger 
should  be  on  a  strictly  cash  basis. 

It  was  the  busy  spring-time,  and  labor  was  in 
great  demand.  Haldane  wandered  off  to  the  sub 
urbs,  and,  as  an  ordinary  laborer,  offered  his  services 
in  cleaning  up  yards,  cutting  wood,  or  forking  over 


MAIDEN  AND   WOOD-SA  WYER. 


207 


a  space  of  garden  ground.  His  stalwart  form  and 
prepossessing  appearance  generally  secured  him  a 
favorable  answer,  but  before  he  was  through  with 
his  task  he  often  received  a  sound  scolding  for  his 
unskillful  and  bungling  style  of  work.  But  he  in 
part  made  up  by  main  strength  what  he  lacked  in 
skill,  and  after  two  or  three  days  he  acquired  con 
siderable  deftness  in  his  unwonted  labors,  and  felt 
the  better  for  them.  They  counteracted  the  effects 
of  his  literary  efforts,  or,  more  correctly,  his  means 
of  inspiration  in  them. 

Thus  another  week  passed,  of  which  he  gave  thre'e 
days  to  the  production  of  two  or. three  more  brief 
manuscripts,  and  during  the  following  week  he  felt 
sure  that  he  would  hear  from  those  first  sent. 

He  wrote  throughout  the  hours  of  daylight  on 
Sunday,  scarcely  leaving  his  chair,  and  drank  more 
deeply  than  usual.  In  consequence,  he  felt  wretch 
edly  on  Monday,  and,  therefore,  strolled  off  to  look 
for  some  employment  that  would  not  tax  his  ach 
ing  head.  Hitherto  he  had  avoided  all  localities 
where  he  would  be  apt  to  meet  those  who  knew  him  ; 
and  by  reason  of  his  brief  residence  in  town  there 
were  comparatively  few  who  were  familiar  with  his 
features.  He  now  recalled  the  fact  that  he  had 
often  seen  from  his  window,  while  an  inmate  of  Mrs. 
Arnot's  home,  quite  a  collection  of  cottages  across  a 
small  ravine  that  ran  a  little  back  of  that  lady's  resi 
dence.  He  might  find  some  work  among  them, 
and  he  yielded  to  the  impulse  to  look  again  upon 
the  place  where  such  rich  and  abundant  happiness 
had  once  seemed  within  his  grasp. 


208     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

For  several  days  he  had  been  conscious  of  a  grow 
ing  desire  to  hear  from  his  mother  and  Mrs.  Arnot, 
and  often  found  himself  wondering  how  they  regard 
ed  his  mysterious  disappearance,  or  whether  reports 
of  his  vain  inquiry  for  work  had  reached  them. 

With  a  pride  and  resolution  that  grew  obstinate 
with  time  and  failure,  he  resolved  that  he  would  not 
communicate  with  them  until  he  had  something  fa 
vorable  to  tell ;  and  he  hoped,  and  almost  believed, 
that  before  many  days  passed,  he  could  address  to 
them  a  literary  weekly  paper  in  which  they  would 
find,  in  prominent  position,  the  underscored  initials 
of  E.  H.  Until  .he  could  be  preceded  by  the  first 
flashes  of  fame  he  would  remain  in  obscurity.  He 
would  not  even  let  Mrs.  Arnot  know  where  he  was 
hiding,  so  that  she  might  send  to  him  his  personal 
effects  left  at  her  house.  Indeed,  he  had  no  place  for 
them  now,  and  was,  besides,  more  morbidly  bent 
than  ever  on  making  good  the  proud  words  he  had 
spoken.  If,  in  the  face  of  such  tremendous  odds 
he  could,  alone  and  unaided,  with  nothing  but  his 
hands  and  brain,  win  again  all  and  more  than  he 
had  lost,  he  could  compel  the  respect  and  admira 
tion  of  those  who  had  witnessed  his  downfall  and 
consequent  victorious  struggle. 

Was  the  girl  who  had  inspired  his  sudden,  and,  as 
he  had  supposed,  "  undying"  passion, forgotten  dur 
ing  these  trying  days  ?  Yes,  to  a  great  extent.  His 
self-love  was  greater  than  his  love  for  Laura  Romeyn. 
He  craved  intensely  to  prove  that  he  was  no  longer 
a  proper  object  of  her  scorn.  She  had  rejected 
him  as  a  slave  to  "  disgusting  vices,"  and  such  he 


MAIDEN  AND   WOOD-SA  WYER. 


.209 


had  apparently  shown  himself  to  be  ;  but  now  he 
would  have  been  willing  to  have  dipped  his  pen  in 
his  own  blood,  and  have  written  away  his  life,  if 
thereby  he  could  have  filled  her  with  admiration  and 
regret.  Although  he  scarcely  acknowledged  it  to 
himself,  perhaps  the  subtlest  and  strongest  impulse 
to  his  present  course  was  the  hope  of  teaching  her 
that  he  was  not  what  she  now  regarded  him.  But 
he  was  not  at  that  time  capable  of  a  strong,  true 
affection  for  any  one,  and  thoughts  of  the  pretty 
maiden  wounded  his  pride  more  than  his  heart. 

After  arriving  at  the  farther  bank  of  the  ravine, 
back  of  Mrs.  Arnot's  residence,  he  sat  down  for 
a  while,  and  gave  himself  up  to  a  very  bitter  revery. 
There,  in  the  bright  spring  sunshine,  was  the  beauti 
ful  villa  which  might  have  been  a  second  home  to 
him.  The  gardener  was  at  work  among  the  shrub 
bery,  and  the  sweet  breath  of  crocuses  and  hyacinths 
was  floated  to  him  on  the  morning  breeze.  There 
were  the  windows  of  his  airy,  lovely  room,  in  com 
parison  with  which  the  place  in  which  he  now  slept 
was  a  kennel.  If  he  had  controlled  and  hidden  his 
passion,  if  he  had  waited  and  wooed  patiently, 
skillfully,  winning  first  esteem  and  friendship,  and 
then  affection,  yonder  garden  paths  might  have  wit 
nessed  many  happy  hours  spent  with  the  one  whom 
he  loved  as  well  as  he  could  love  any  one  save  him 
self.  But  now — and  he  cursed  himself  and  his  folly. 

Poor  fellow  !  He  might  as  well  have  said,  "  If  I 
had  not  been  myself,  all  this  might  have  been  as  I 
have  imagined."  He  had  acted  naturally,  and  in 
accordance  with  his  defective  character;  he  had 


2io    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

been  himself,  and  that  was  the  secret  of  all  his  trou 
bles.     He  sprang  up,  exclaiming  in  anger, 

"  Mother  made  a  weak  fool  of  me,  and  I  was  will 
ing  to  be  a  fool.  Now  we  are  both  reaping  our  re 
ward." 

He  went  off  among  the  cottages  looking  for  em 
ployment,  but  found  little  encouragement.  The 
people  were,  as  a  general  thing,  in  humble  circum 
stances,  and  did  their  work  among  themselves.  But 
at  last  he  found,  near  the  ravine,  a  small  dwelling 
standing  quite  apart  from  any  others,  before  which 
a  load  of  wood  had  been  thrown.  The  poor  woman 
whose  gateway  it  obstructed  was  anxious  to  have  it 
sawed  up  and  carried  to  her  little  wood-shed,  but 
was  disposed  to  haggle  about  the  price. 

"  Give  me  what  you  please,"  said  Haldane,  throw 
ing  off  his  coat;  "I  take  the  job;  "  and  in  a  few 
moments  the  youth  who  had  meditated  indefinite 
heights  of  "  gloomy  grandeur"  appeared — save  to 
the  initiated — as  if  he  had  been  born  a  wood-sawyer. 

He  was  driving  his  saw  in  the  usual  strong,  dog 
ged  manner  in  which  he  performed  such  tasks,  when 
a  light  step  caused  him  to  look  up  suddenly,  and  he 
found  himself  almost  face  to  face  with  Laura  Ro- 
meyn.  He  started  violently;  the  blood  first  receded 
from  his  face,  and  then  rushed  tumultuously  back. 
She,  too,  seemed  much  surprised  and  startled,  and 
stopped  hesitatingly,  as  if  she  did  not  know  what  to 
do.  But  Haldane  had  no  doubt  as  to  his  course. 
He  felt  that  he  had  no  right  to  speak  to  her,  and 
that  she  might  regard  it  as  an  insult  if  he  did  ; 
therefore  he  bent  down  to  his  work  again  with  a 


MAIDEN  AND   WOOD-SAWYER.  2II 

certain  proud  humility  which  Laura,  even  in  her 
perturbation,  did  not  fail  to  notice. 

In  her  diffidence  and  confusion  she  continued  past 
him  a  few  steps,  and,  although  he  expected  nothing 
less,  the  fact  that  she  did  not  recognize  or  speak  to 
him  cut  to  his  heart  with  a  deeper  pain  than  he  had 
yet  suffered.  With  a  gesture  similar  to  that  which 
he. made  when  she  saw  him  on  the  way  to  prison,  he 
dashed  his  hat  down  over  his  eyes,  and  drove  his 
saw  through  the  wood  with  savage  energy. 

She  looked  at  him  doubtfully  for  a  moment,  then 
yielding  to  her  impulse,  came  to  his  side.  His  first 
intimation  of  "her  presence  was  the  scarcely  heard 
tones  of  her  voice  mingling  with  the  harsh  rasping 
of  the  saw. 

"Will  you  not  speak  to  me,  Mr.  Haldane?"  she 
asked. 

He  dropped  his  saw,  stood  erect,  trembled  slightly, 
but  did  not  answer  or  even  raise  his  eyes  to  her  face. 
His  pain  was  so  great  he  was  not  sure  of  his  self- 
control. 

"Perhaps,"  she  added  timidly,  "you  do  not  wish 
me  to  speak  to  you." 

"  I  now  have  no  right  to  speak  to  you,  Miss 
Romeyn,"  he  answered  in  a  tone  which  his  sup 
pressed  feelings  rendered  constrained  and  almost 
harsh. 

"  But  I  feel  sorry  for  you,"  said  she  quickly,  "  and 
so  does  my  aunt,  and  she  greatly — " 

"  I  have  not  asked  for  your  pity,"  interrupted  Hal 
dane,  growing  more  erect  and  almost  haughty  in  his 
bearing,  quite  oblivious  for  a  moment  of  his  shirt- 


212     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

sleeves  and  buck-saw.  What  is  more,  he  made 
Laura  forget  them  also,  and  his  manner  embarrassed 
her  greatly.  She  was  naturally  gentle  and  timid, 
and  she  deferred  so  far  to  his  mood  that  one  would 
have  thought  that  she  was  seeking  to  obtain  kind 
ness  rather  than  to  confer  it. 

"  You  misunderstand  me,"  said  she :  "  I  do  respect 
you  for  the  brave  effort  you  are  making.  I  respect 
you  for  doing  this  work.  You  cannot  think  it 
strange,  though,  that  I  am  sorry  for  all  that  has  hap 
pened.  But  I  did  not  intend  to  speak  of  myself  at 
all — of  Mrs.  Arnot  rather,  and  your  mother.  They 
do  not  know  where  to  find  you,  and  wish  to  see  and 
hear  from  you  very  much.  Mrs.  Arnot  has  letters 
to  you  from  your  mother." 

"  The  time  shall  come — it  may  not  be  so  very  far 
distant,  Miss  Romeyn — when  it  will  be  no  conde 
scension  on  your  part  to  speak  to  me,"  said  Haldane 
loftily,  ignoring  all  that  related  to  Mrs.  Arnot  and 
his  mother,  even  if  he  heard  it. 

"I  do  not  feel  it  to  be  condescension  now,"  re 
plied  Laura,  with  almost  the  frank  simplicity  of  a 
child;  "I  cannot  help  feeling  sympathy  for  you, 
even  though  you  are  too  proud  to  receive  it."  Then 
she  added,  with  a  trace  of  dignity  and  maidenly 
pride,  "  Perhaps  when  you  have  realized  your  hopes, 
and  have  become  rich  or  famous,  I  may  not  choose 
to  speak  to  you.  But  it  is  not  my  nature  to  turn 
from  any  one  in  misfortune,  much  less  any  one  whom 
I  have  known  well." 

He  looked  at  her  steadily  for  a  moment,  and  his 
lip  quivered  slightly  with  his  softening  feeling. 


• 


MAIDEN  AND   WOOD-SA  WYER. 


213 


"  You  do  not  scorn  me,  then,  like  the  rest  of  the 
world,"  said  he  in  a  low  tone. 

Tears  stood  in  the  young  girl's  eyes  as  she  an 
swered,  "  Mr.  Haldane,  I  do  feel  deeply  for  you  ;  I 
know  you  have  done  very  wrong,  but  that  only 
makes  you  suffer  more." 

"  How  can  you  overlook  the  wrong  of  my  action  ? 
Others  think  I  am  not  fit  to  be  spoken  to,"  he  asked, 
in  a  still  lower  tone. 

"  I  do  not  overlook  the  wrong,"  said  she,  gravely; 
"  it  seems  strange  and  terrible  to  me ;  and  yet  I  do 
feel  sorry  for  you,  from  the  depths  of  my  heart,  and 
I  wish  I  could  help  you." 

"  You  have  helped  me,"  said  he,  impetuously; 
"you  have  spoken  the  first  truly  kind  word  that  has 
blessed  me  since  I  bade  mother  good-by.  I  was 
beginning  to  hate  the  hard-hearted  animals  known 
as  men  and  women.  They  trample  me  down  like  a 
herd  of  buffaloes." 

"  Won't  you  go  with  me  and  see  Mrs.  Arnot  ?  She 
has  letters  for  you,  and  she  greatly  wishes  to  see 
you." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Why  not?" 

'*  I  have  the  same  as  made  a  vow  that  I  will  never 
approach  any  one  to  whom  I  held  my  old  relations 
until  I  regain  at  least  as  good  a  name  and  position 
as  I  lost.  I  little  thought  we  should  meet  soon 
again,  if  ever,  and  still  less  that  you  would  speak  to 
me  as  you  have  done." 

"  I  had  been  taking  some  delicacies  from  auntie 
to  a  poor  sick  woman,  and  was  just  returning,"  said 


214     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Laura,  blushing  slightly.  "  I  think  your  vow  is  very 
wrong.  Your  pride  brings  grief  to  your  mother,  and 
pain  to  your  good  friend,  Mrs.  Arnot." 

"  I  cannot  help  it,"  said  he,  in  a  manner  that  was 
gloomy  and  almost  sullen  ;  "  I  got  myself  into  this 
slough,  and  I  intend  to  get  myself  out  of  it.  I  shall 
not  take  alms  from  any  one." 

"  A  mother  cannot  give  her  son  alms,"  said  Laura 
simply. 

"  The  first  words  my  mother  said  to  me  when  my 
heart  was  breaking  were,  *  You  have  disgraced  me.' 
When  I  have  accomplished  that  which  will  honor 
her  I  will  return." 

"  I  know  from  what  auntie  said  that  your  mother 
did  not  mean  any  unkindness,  and  you  surely  know 
that  you  have  a  friend  in  Mrs.  Arnot." 

"  Mrs.  Arnot  has  been  a  true  friend,  and  no  small 
part  of  my  punishment  is  the  thought  of  how  I  have 
requited  her  kindness.  I  reverence  and  honor  her 
more  than  any  other  woman,  and  I  did  not  know 
that  you  were  so  much  like  her.  You  both  seem 
different  from  all  the  rest  of  the  world.  But  I  shall 
take  no  advantage  of  her  kindness  or  yours. ** 

"  Mr.  Haldane,"  said  Laura  gravely,  but  with  ris 
ing  color,  "  I  am  not  a  woman.  In  years  and  feelings 
I  am  scarcely  more  than  a  child.  It  may  not  be 
proper  or  conventional  for  me  to  stop  and  talk  so 
long  to  you,  but  I  have  acted  from  the  natural  im 
pulse  of  a  young  girl  brought  up  in  a  secluded  country 
home.  I  shall  return  thither  to-morrow,  and  I  am 
glad  I  have  seen  you  once  more,  for  I  wished  you  to 
know  that  I  did  feel  sorry  for  you,  and  that  I  hoped 


MAIDEN  AND   WOOD-SAWYER.  215 

you  might  succeed.  I  greatly  wish  you  would  see 
Mrs.  Arnot,  or  let  me  tell  her  where  she  can  see  you, 
and  send  to  you  what  she  wishes.  She  has  heard  of 
you  once  or  twice,  but  does  not  know  where  to  find 
you.  Will  you  not  let  me  tell  her?  " 

He  shook  his  head  decidedly. 

"  Well,  then,  good-by,"  said  she  kindly,  and  was 
about  to  depart. 

u  Wait,"  he  said  hastily ;  "  will  you  do  me  one 
small  favor  ?  " 

"Yes,  if  I  ought." 

"  This  is  my  father's  watch  and  chain,"  he  con 
tinued,  taking  them  off.  "  They  are  not  safe  with 
me  in  my  present  life.  I  do  not  wish  to  have  it  in 
my  power  to  take  them  to  a  pawn-shop.  I  would 
rather  starve  first,  and  yet  I  would  rather  not  be 
tempted.  I  can't  explain.  You  cannot  and  should 
not  know  any  thing  about  the  world  in  which  I  am 
living.  Please  give  these  to  Mrs.  Arnot,  and  ask 
her  to  keep  them  till  I  come  for  them ;  or  she  can 
send  them,  with  the  rest  of  my  effects,  to  my  mother. 
I  have  detained  you  too  long  already.  Whatever 
may  be  my  fate,  I  shall  always  remember  you  with 
the  deepest  gratitude  and  respect." 

There  was  distress  in  Laura's  face  as  he  spoke ;  but 
she  took  the  watch  and  chain  without  a  word,  for 
she  saw  that  he  was  fully  resolved  upon  his  course. 

"  I  know  that  Mrs.  Arnot  will  respect  my  wish  to 
remain  in  obscurity  until  I  can  come  with  a  charac 
ter  differing  from  that  which  I  now  bear.  Your  life 
would  be  a  very  happy  one,  Miss  R-omeyn,  .if  my 
wishes  could  make  it  so;"  and  the  wood-sawyer 


216     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

bowed  his  farewell  with  the  grace  and  dignity  of  a 
gentleman,  in  spite  of  his  coarse  laborer's  garb.  He 
then  resumed  his  work,  to  the  great  relief  of  the 
woman,  who  had  caught  glimpses  of  the  interview 
from  her  window,  wondering  and  surmising  why  the 
"  young  leddy  from  the  big  house  "  should  have  so 
much  to  say  to  a  wood-sawyer. 

"  If  she  had  a-given  him  a  tract  upon  leavin',  it 
would  a-seemed  more  nateral  like,"  she  explained  to 
a  crony  the  latter  part  of  the  day. 

Mrs.  Arnot  did  respect  Haldane's  desire  to  be  left 
to  himself  until  he  came  in  the  manner  that  his  pride 
dictated  ;  but,  after  hearing  Laura's  story,  she  cast 
many  a  wistful  glance  toward  the  one  who,  in  spite 
of  his  grave  faults  and  weaknesses,  deeply  interested 
her,  and  she  sighed, 

"  He  must  learn  by  hard  experience." 

"Did  I  do  wrong  in  speaking  to  him,  auntie?" 
Laura  asked. 

"I  do  not  think  so.  Your  motive  was  natural 
and  -kindly ;  and  yet  I  would  not  like  you  to  meet 
him  again  until  he  is  wholly  different  in  character,  if 
that  time  ever  comes." 


MA  GNANIMO  US  MR.  SHR  UMPF.  2 1 7 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

MAGNANIMOUS   MR.   SHRUMPF. 

AFTER  the  excitement  caused  by  his  unexpected 
interview  with  Laura  subsided,  and  Haldane 
was  able  to  think  it  over  quietly,  it  seemed  to  him 
that  he  had  burned  his  ships  behind  him.  He  must 
now  make  good  his  proud  words,  for  to  go  "  crawling 
back  "  after  what  he  had  said  to-day,  and,  of  all  per 
sons,  to  the  one  whose  opinion  he  most  valued — this 
would  be  a  humiliation  even  the  thought  of  -which 
he  could  not  endure. 

Having  finished  his  task,  he  scarcely  glanced  at 
the  pittance  which  the  woman  reluctantly  gave  him, 
and  went  straight  to  the  city  post-office.  He  was 
so  agitated  with  conflicting  hopes  and  fears  that  his 
voice  trembled  as  he  asked  if  there  were  any  letters 
addressed  to  E.  H.,  and  he  was  so  deeply  disappoint 
ed  that  he  was  scarcely  willing  to  take  the  careless 
negative  given.  He  even  went  to  the  express  office, 
in  the  vague  hope  that  the  wary  editors  had  remitted 
through  them;  -and  the  leaden  weight  of  despon 
dency  grew  heavier  at  each  brisk  statement  : 

"  Nothing  for  E.  H." 

He  was  so  weary  and  low-spirited  when  he  reached 
his  dismal  lodgings  that  he  felt  no  disposition  to 
10 


218    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

either  eat  or  drink,  but  sat  down  in  the  back  part  of 
the  wretched,  musty  saloon,  and,  drawing  his  hat 
over  his  eyes,  he  gave  himself  up  to  bitter  thoughts. 
With  mental  imprecations  he  cursed  himself  that  he 
had  not  better  understood  the  young  girl  who  once 
had  been  his  companion.  Never  before  had  she 
seemed  so  beautiful  as  to-day,  and  she  had  revealed 
a  forming  character  as  lovely  as  her  person.  She 
was  like  Mrs.  Arnot — the  woman  who  seemed  to 
him  perfect — and  what  more  could  he  say  in  her 
praise?  And  yet  his  folly  had  placed  between  them 
an  impassable  gulf.  He  was  not  misled  by  her 
kindness,  for  he  remembered  her  words,  and  now 
believed  them,  "  If  I  ever  love  a  man  he  will  be  one 
that  I  can  look  up  to  and  respect."  If  he  could 
have  only  recognized  her  noble  tendencies  he  might 
have  resolutely  set  about  becoming  such  a  man.  If 
his  character  had  been  pleasing  to  her,  his  social 
position  would  have  given  him  the  right  to  have  as 
pired  to  her  hand.  Why  had  he  not  had  sufficient 
sense  to  have  realized  that  she  was  young — much 
too  young  to  understand  his  rash,  hasty  passion  ? 
Why  could  he  not  have  learned  from  her,  pure,  deli 
cate  face  that  she  might  possibly  be  won  by  patient 
and  manly  devotion,  but  would  be  forever  repelled 
from  the  man  who  wooed  her  like  a  Turk? 

In  the  light  of  experience  he  saw  his  mistakes. 
From  his  present  depth  he  looked  up,  and  saw  the 
inestimable  vantage  ground  which  he  once  possessed. 
In  his  deep  despondency  he  feared  he  never  would 
regain  it,  and  that  his  hopes  of  literary  success  would 
prove  delusive. 


MAGNANIMOUS  MR.  SHRUMPF.  219 

Regret  like  a  cold,  November  wind,  swept  through 
all  his  thoughts  and  memories,  and  there  seemed 
nothing  before  him  but  a  chill  winter  of  blight  and 
failure  that  would  have  no  spring.  - 

But  he  was  not  left  to  indulge  his  miserable  mood 
very  long,  for  his  mousing  landlord — having  finally 
learned  who  Haldane  was,  and  all  the  unfavora 
ble  facts  and  comments  with  which  th£  press  had 
abounded — now  concluded  that  he  could  pounce 
upon  him  in  such  a  way  that  something  would  be 
left  in  his  claws  before  the  victim  could  escape. 

That  very  morning  Haldane  had  paid  for  his  board 
to  date,  but  had  thoughtlessly  neglected  to  have  a 
witness  or  take  a  receipt.  The  grizzled  grimalkin 
who  kept  the  den,  and  thrived  as  much  by  his  small 
filchings  as  from  his  small  profits,  had  purred  to  him 
self,  "  Very  goot,  very  goot,"  on  learning  that  Hal- 
dane's  word  would  not  be  worth  much  with  the 
public  or  in  court ;  and  no  yellow-eyed  cat  ever 
waited  and.  watched  for  his  prey  with  a  quieter  and 
cooler  deliberation  than  did  Weitzel  Shrumpf,  the 
host  of  the  dingy  little  hotel. 

After  Haldane  appeared  he  delayed  until  a  few 
cronies  whom  he  could  depend  upon  had  dropped 
in,  and  then,  in  an  off-hand  way,  stepped  up  to  the 
despondent  youth,  and  said : 

"  I  zay,  mister,  you  been  here  zwei  week ;  I  want 
you  bay  me  now." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Haldane,  looking 
up  with*  an  uncomprehending  stare. 

"  Dis  is  vot  I  means ;  you  buts  me  off  long  'nuff. 
I  vants  zwei  weeks'  bort." 


220    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  I  paid  you  for  every  thing  up  to-  this  morning, 
and  I  have  had  nothing  since." 

"  O,  you  have  baid  me — strange  I  did  not  know  ! 
Vill  you  bays  now  ven  I  does  know  ?  " 

"  I  tell  you  I  have  paid  you  !  "  said  Haldane,  start 
ing  up. 

"  Veil,  veil,  show  me  der  receipt,  an  I  says  not  von 
vort  against  him." 

"  You  did  not  give  me  a  receipt." 

"  No,  I  tinks  not — not  my  vay  to  give  him  till  I 
gits  de  moneys." 

"  You  are  an  unmitigated  scoundrel.  I  won't  pay 
you  another  cent." 

"  Lock  dat  door,  Carl,"  said  the  landlord,  coolly, 
to  one  of  his  satellites.  "  Now,  Mister  Haldane, 
you  bays,  or  you  goes  to  jail.  You  has  been  dare 
vonce,  an  I'll  but  you  dare  dis  night  if  you  no  bays 
me." 

"  Gentlemen,  I  appeal  to  you  to  prevent  this  down 
right  villainy,"  cried  Haldane. 

"  I  sees  no  villainy,"  said  one  of  the  lookers-on, 
stolidly.  "  You  shows  your  receipt,  and  he  no  touch 
you." 

"  I  neglected  to  take  a  receipt.  I  did  not  know  I 
was  dealing  with  a  thief." 

"Ho,  ho,  ho!"  laughed  the  landlord;  "he  tinks 
I  vas  honest  like  himself,  who  vas  jus'  out  of  jail !  " 

"  I  won't  pay  you  twice,"  said  Haldane  doggedly. 

"  Carl,  call  de  policeman,  den." 

"Wait  a  moment;  your  rascality  will  do  you  no 
good,  and  may  get  you  into  trouble.  I  have  very 
little  money  left." 


MA  GNANIMO  US  MR,  SHR  UMPF.  2  2 1 

'*  Den  you  can  leave  your  vatch  till  you  brings  de 
money." 

"  Ah,  thank  Heaven !  that  is  safe,  and  beyond 
your  clutches." 

"In  a  pawn-shop?  or  vas  he  stolen,  like  de  tou- 
sand  dollar,  and  you  been  made  give  him  up?" 

Haldane  had  now  recovered  himself  sufficiently 
to  realize  that  he  was  in  an  ugly  predicament.  He 
was  not  sufficiently  familiar  with  the  law  to  know 
how  much  power  his  persecutor  had,  but  feared,  with 
good  reason,  that  some  kind  of  a  charge  could  be 
trumped  up  which  would  lead  to  his  being  locked 
up  for  the  night.  Then  would  follow  inevitably 
another  series  of  paragraphs  in  the  papers,  deepening 
the  dark  hues  in  which  they  had  already  portrayed 
his  character.  He  could  not  endure  the  thought 
that  the  last  knowledge  of  him  that  Laura  carried 
away  with  her  from  Hillaton  should  be  that  he  was 
again  in  jail,  charged  with  trying  to  steal  his  board 
and  lodging  from  a  poor  and  ignorant  foreigner  ;  for 
he  foresaw  that  the  astute  Shrumpf,  his  German 
landlord,  would  appear  in  the  police  court  in  the 
character  of  an  injured  innocent.  He  pictured  the 
disgust  upon  her  face  as  she  saw  his  name  in  the  vile 
connection  which  this  new  arraignment  would  oc 
casion,  and  he  felt  that  he  must  escape  it  if  possi 
ble.  Although  enraged  at  Shrumpf  s  false  charge,  he 
was  cool  enough  to  remember  that  he  had  nothing 
to  oppose  to  it  save  his  own  unsupported  word  ; 
and  what  was  that  worth  in  Hillaton  ?  The  public 
would  even  be  inclined  to  believe  the  opposite  of 
what  he  affirmed.  Therefore,  by  a  great  effort, 


222    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

he    regained  his   self-control,  and   said    firmly  and 
quietly: 

"  Shrumpf,  although  you  know  I  have  paid  you,  I 
am  yet  in  a  certain  sense  within  your  power,  since  I 
did  not  take  your  receipt.  I  have  not  much  money 
left,  but  after  I  have  taken  out  fifty  cents  for  my 
*supper  and  bed  you  can  take  all  the  rest.  My  watch 
is  in  the  hands  of  a  friend,  and  you  can't  get  that, 
and  you  can't  get  any  more  than  I  have  by  procuring 
my  arrest ;  so  take  your  choice.  I  don't  want  to 
have  trouble  with  you,  but  I  won't  go  out  penniless 
and  spend  the  night  in  the  street,  and  if  you  send 
for  a  policeman  I  will  make  you  all  the  trouble  I 
can,  and  I  promise  you  it  will  not  be  a  little." 

Herr  Shrumpf,  conscious  that  he  was  on  rather 
delicate  ground,  and  remembering  that  he  was  al 
ready  in  bad  odor  with  the  police  authorities,  assumed 
a  great  show  of  generosity. 

"  I  vill  not  be  tough,"  he  said,  "  ven  a  man's  boor, 
and  does  all  vat  he  can ;  I  knows  my  rights,  and  I 
stands  up  for  him,  but  ven  I  gits  him  den  I  be  like 
von  leetle  lamb.  I  vill  leave  you  tree  quarter  dollar, 
and  you  bays  der  rest  vat  you  have,  and  ve  says 
nothing  more  'bout  him." 

"  You  are  right — the  least  said  the  better  about 
this  transaction.  I've  been  a  fool,  and  you  are  a 
knave,  and  that  is  all  there  is  to  say.  Here  are 
seventy-five  cents,  which  I  keep,  and  there  are  four 
dollars,  which  is  all  I  have — every  cent.  Now  un 
lock  your  door  and  let  me  out." 

<JI  tinks  you  has  more." 

"You  can  search  my  pockets  if  you  wish.     If  you 


MAGNANIMOUS  MR,  SHRUMPF.  223 

do,  I  call  upon  these  men  present  to  witness  the  act, 
for,  as  I  have  said,  if  you  go  beyond  a  certain  point 
I  will  make  you  trouble,  and  justly,  too." 

"  Nah,  nah!  vat  for  I  do  so  mean  a  ting?  You 
but  your  hand  in  my  bocket  veri  you  takes  my  din 
ners,  my  lagers,  and  my  brandies,  but  I  no  do  vat  no 
shentlemens  does.  You  can  go,  and  ven.you  brings 
de  full  moneys  for  zwei  weeks'  bort  I  gives  you  re 
ceipt  for  him." 

Haldane  vouchsafed  no  reply,  but  hastened  away, 
as  a  fly  would  escape  from  a  spider's  web.  The  epi 
sode,  intensely  disagreable  as  it  was,  had  the  good 
effect  of  arousing  him  out  of  the  paralysis  of  his 
deep  despondency.  Besides,  he  could  not  help  con 
gratulating  himself  that  he  had  avoided  another 
arrest  and  all  the  wretched  experience  which  must 
have  followed. 

He  concluded  that  there  was  no  other  resource  for 
him  that  night  save  "No.  13,"  the  lodging-house  in 
the  side  street  where  "  no  questions  were  asked  ;  " 
and,  having  stolen  into  another  obscure  restaurant, 
he  obtained  such  a  supper  as  could  be  had  for  twenty- 
five  cents.  He  then  sought  his  former  miserable 
refuge,  and,  as  he  could  not  pay  extra  for  a  private 
room  on  this  occasion — for  he  must  keep  a  little 
money  for  his  breakfast — there  was  nothing  for  him, 
therefore,  but  to  obtain  what  rest  he  could  in  a  large, 
stifling  room,  half  filled  with  miserable  waifs  like 
himself.  He  managed  to  get  a  bed  near  a  window, 
which  he  raised  slightly,  and  fatigue  soon  brought 
oblivion. 


224      KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A   MAN  WHO   HATED   HIMSELF. 

THE  light  of  the  following  day  brought  little 
hope  or  courage;  but  Haldane  started  out, 
after  a  meager  breakfast,  to  find  some  means  of  ob 
taining  a  dinner  and  a  place  to  sleep.  He  was  not 
as  successful  as  usual,  and  noon  had  passed  before 
he  found  any  thing  to  do. 

As  he  was  plodding  wearily  along  through  a  sub 
urb  he  heard  some  one  behind  a  high  board  fence 
speaking  so  loudly  and  angrily  that  he  stopped  to 
listen,  and  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  find  that  the 
man  was  talking  to  himself.  For  a  few  moments 
there  was  a  sound  of  a  saw,  and  when  it  ceased,  a 
harsh,  querulous  voice  commenced  again: 

"  A-a-h  " — it  would  seem  that  the  man  thus  given 
to  soliloquy  often  began  and  finished  his  sentences 
with  a  vindictive  and  prolonged  guttural  sound  like 
that  here  indicated  — "  Miserable  hand  at  sawin' 
wood !  Why  don't  you  let  some  one  saw  it  that 
knows  how?  Tryin'  to  save  a  half  dollar,  when  you 
know  it'll  give  you  the  rheumatiz,  and  cost  ten  in 
doctor  bills!  'Nother  thing;  it's  mean — mean  as 
dirt.  You  know  there's  poor  devils  who  need  the 
work,  and  you're  cheatin'  'em  out  of  it.  But  it's 


A  MAN  WHO  HATED  HIMSELF.  225 

just  like  yer!     A-a-h !  "  and  then  the  saw  began 
again. 

Haldane  was  inclined  to  believe  that  this  irascible 
stranger  was  as  providential  as  the  croaking  ravens 
that  fed  the  prophet,  and  he  promptly  sought  the 
gate  and  entered.  An  old  man  looked  up  in  some 
surprise.  He  was  short  in  stature  and  had  the  stoop 
of  one  who  is  bending  under  the  weight  of  years  and 
infirmities.  His  features  were  as  withered  and  brown 
as  a  russet  apple  that  had  been  kept  long  past  its 
season,  and  his  head  was  surmounted  by  a  shock  of 
white  locks  that  bristled  out  in  all  directions,  as  if 
each  particular  hair  was  on  bad  terms  with  its  neigh 
bors.  Curious  seams  and  wrinkles  gave  the  continu 
ous  impression  that  the  old  gentleman  had  just 
swallowed  something  very  bitter,  and  was  making  a 
wry  face  over  it.  But  Haldane  was  in  no  mood  for 
the  study  of  physiognomy  and  character,  however 
interesting  a  subject  he  might  stumble  upon,  and  he 
said, 

"  I  am  looking  for  a  little  work,  and  with  your 
permission  I  will  saw  that  wood  for  whatever  you 
are  willing  to  pay." 

"That  won't  be  much." 

"  It  will  be  enough  to  get  a  hungry  man  a  din 
ner." 

"  Haven't  you  had  any  dinner?" 

"  No." 

"  Why  didn't  you  ask  for  one,  then  ?  " 

"  Why  should  I  ask  you  for  a  dinner  ?  " 

"  Why  shouldn't  you  ?     If  I  be  a  tight-fisted  man, 
I'm  not  mean  enough  to  refuse  a  hungry  man." 
10* 


226     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

11  Give  me  some  work,  and  I  can  buy  my  dinner." 

"  What's  your  name?" 

"  Egbert  Haldane." 

"  Ah  ha  !     That  name's  been  in  the  papers  lately." 

"Yes,  and  /have  been  in  jail." 

"And  do  you  expect  me  to  have  a  man  around 
that's  been  in  jail?  " 

"  No ;  I  don't  expect  any  humanity  from  any  hu 
man  being  that  knows  any  thing  about  me.  I  am 
treated  as  if  I  were  the  devil  himself,  and  hadn't  the 
power  or  wish  to  do  any  thing  save  rob  and  murder. 
The  public  should  keep  such  as  I  am  in  prison  the 
rest  of  our  lives,  or  else  cut  our  throats.  But  this 
sending  us  out  in  the  world  to  starve,  and  to  be 
kicked  and  cuffed  during  the  process,  is  scarcely  in 
keeping  with  the  Bible  civilization  they  are  always 
boasting  of." 

He  spoke  recklessly  and  bitterly,  and  his  experience 
made  his  words  appear  to  him  only  too  true.  But 
his  shriveled  and  shrunken  auditor  grinned  appre 
ciatively,  and  said,  with  more  than  his  usual  vindic 
tive  emphasis, 

"  A-a-h  !  that's  the  right  kind  of  talk.  Now  you're 
gittin'  past  all  this  make  -  believin'  to  the  truth. 
We're  a  cussed  mean  set — we  folks  who  go  to  church 
and  read  the  Bible,  and  then  do  just  what  the  devil 
tells  us,  a-helpin'  him  along  all  the  time.  Satan's 
got  a  strong  grip  on  you,  from  all  I  hear,  and  we're 
all  a-helpin'  him  keep  it.  You've  gone  halfway  to 
the  devil,  and  all  the  good  people  tell  you  to  go  the 
rest  of  the  way,  for  they  won't  have  any  thing  to  do 
with  you.  Hain't  that  the  way?" 


A  MAN  WHO  HATED  HIMSELF.  227 

"  O,  no,"  said  Haldane  with  a  bitter  sneer ;  "  some 
of  the  good  people  to  whom  you  refer  put  them 
selves  out  so  far  as  to  give  me  a  little  advice." 

"  What  was  it  wuth  to  you  ?  Which  would  you 
ruther — some  good  advice  from  me,  or  the  job  of 
sawin'  the  wood  there  ?  " 

"  Give  me  the  saw — no  matter  about  the  advice," 
said  Haldane,  throwing  off  his  coat. 

"A-a-h!  wasn't  I  a  fool  to  ask  that  question? 
Well,  I  don't  belong  to  the  good  people,  so  go 
ahead — I  don't  s'pose  you  know  much  about  sawin' 
wood,  bro't  up  as  you've  been  ;  but  you  can't  do  it 
wuss  than  me.  I  don't  belong  to  any  one.  What 
I  was  made  for  I  can't  see,  unless  it  is  to  be  a  tor 
ment  to  myself.  Nobody  can  stand  me.  I  can't 
stand  myself.  I've  got  a  cat  and  dog  that  will  stay 
with  me,  and  sometimes  I'll  git  up  and  kick  'em 
jest  for  the  chance  of  cussin'  myself  for  doin'  it." 

"  And  yet  you  are  the  first  man  in  town  that  has 
shown  me  any  practical  kindness,"  said  Haldane, 
placing  another  stick  on  his  saw-buck. 

"  Well,  I  kinder  do  it  out  o'  spite  to  myself. 
There's  somethin'  inside  of  me  sayin'  all  the  time, 
'Why  are  you  spendin'  time  and  money  on  this 
young  scape-grace?  It'll  end  in  your  havin'  to  give 
him  a  dinner,  for  you  can't  be  so  blasted  mean  as  to 
let  him  go  without  it,  and  yet  all  the  time  you're 
wishin'  that  you  needn't  do  it.' " 

"  Well,  you  need  not,"  said  Haldane. 

11  Yes,  I  must,  too." 

"  All  I  ask  of  you  is  what  you  think  this  work  is 
worth." 


228     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Well,  that  ain't  all  I  ask  of  my  confounded  old 
self.  Here,  you're  hungry  you  say — s'pose  you  tell 
the  truth  sometimes;  here  you're  down,  and  all  the 
respectable  people  sittin'  down  hard  on  you  ;  here 
you  are  in  the  devil's  clutches,  and  he's  got  you 
halfway  toward  the  brimstone,  and  I'm  grudgin'  you 
a  dinner,  even  when  I  know  I've  got  to  give  it  to 
you.  That's  what  I  call  bein'  mean  and  a  fool  both. 
A-a-h  !  " 

Haldane  stopped  a  moment  to  indulge  in  the  first 
laugh  he  had  enjoyed  since  his  arrest. 

"  I  hope  you  will  pardon  me,  my  venerable  friend," 
said  he ;  "  but  you  have  a  rather  strangely  honest 
way  of  talking." 

"  I'm  old,  but  I  ain't  venerable.  My  name  is  Jere 
miah  Growther,"  was  the  snarling  reply. 

"I'm  afraid  you  have  too  much  conscience,  Mr. 
Growther.  It  won't  let  you  do  comfortably  what 
others  do  as  a  matter  of  course." 

"I've  nothin'  to  do  with  other  people.  I  know 
what's  right,  and  I'm  all  the'  time  hatin'  to  do  it. 
That's  the  mean  thing  about  me  which  I  can't  stand. 
A-a-h !  " 

"I'm  sorry  my  coming  has  made  you  so  out  of 
sorts  with  yourself." 

"  If  it  ain't  you  it's  somethin'  else.  I  ain't  more 
out  of  sorts  than  usual." 

"  Well,  you'll  soon  be  rid  of  me — I'll  be  through 
in  an  hour." 

"  Yes,  and  here  it  is  the  middle  of  the  afternoon, 
and  you  haven't  had  your  dinner  yet,  and  for  all  I 
know,  no  breakfast  nuther.  I  was  precious  careful 


A  MAN  WHO  HATED  HIMSELF.  229 

to  have  both  of  mine,  and  find  it  very  comfortable 
standin'  here  a-growlin'  while  you're  workin'  on  an 
empty  stomach.  But  it's  just  like  me.  A-a-h!  I'll 
call  you  in  a  few  minutes,  and  I  won't  pay  you  a 
cent  unless  you  come  in ;  "  and  the  old  man  started 
for  the  small  dilapidated  cottage  which  he  shared 
with  the  cat  and  dog  that,  as  he  stated,  managed  to 
worry  along  with  him. 

But  he  had  not  taken  many  steps  before  he  stum 
bled  slightly  against  a  loose  stone,  and  he  stopped 
for  a  moment,  as  if  he  could  find  no  language  equal 
to  the  occasion,  and  then  commenced  such  a  tirade 
of  abuse  with  his  poor  weazen  little  self  as  its  ob 
ject,  that  one  would  naturally  feel  like  taking  sides 
with  the  decrepit  body  against  the  vindictive  spirit. 
Haldane  would  have  knocked  a  stranger  down  had 
he  said  half  as  much  to  the  old  gentleman,  who 
seemed  bent  on  befriending  him  after  his  own  odd 
fashion.  But  the  irate  old  man  finished  his  objurga 
tion  with  the  words  : 

"  What's  one  doin'  above  ground  who  can't  lift 
his  foot  over  a  stone  only  an  inch  high  ?  A-a-h  !  " 
and  then  he  went  on,  and  disappeared  in  the  house, 
from  the  open  door  of  which  not  long  after  came 
the  savory  odor  of  coffee. 

Partly  to  forget  his  miserable  self  in  his  employer's 
strange  manner,  and  partly  because  he  was  almost  faint 
from  hunger,  Haldane  concluded  to  accept  this  first 
invitation  to  dine  out  in  Hillaton,  resolving  that  he 
would  do  his  queer  host  some  favor  to  make  things  even. 

"  Come  in,"  shouted  Mr.  Growther  a  few  minutes, 
later. 


230    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Haldane  entered  quite  a  large  room,  which  pre 
sented  an  odd  aspect  of  comfort  and  disorder. 

"  There's  a  place  to  wash  your  hands,  if  you 
think  it's  wuth  while.  I  don't  often,  but  I  hope 
there's  few  like  me,"  said  the  busy  host,  lifting  the 
frying-pan  from  some  coals,  and  emptying  from  it  a 
generous  slice  of  ham  and  three  or  four  eggs  on  a 
platter. 

"  I  like  your  open  fire-place,"  said  Haldane,  look 
ing  curiously  around  the  hermitage  as  he  performed 
his  ablutions. 

"  That's  a  nuther  of  my  weaknesses.  I  know  a 
stove  would  be  more  convenient  and  economical, 
but  I  hate  all  improvements." 

"  One  would  think,  from  what  you  said,  your  cat 
and  dog  had  a  hard  time  of  it ;  but  two  more  sleek, 
fat,  and  lazy  animals  I  never  saw." 

"  No  thanks  to  me.  I  s'pose  they've  got  clear 
consciences." 

As  the  table  began  to  fairly  groan  with  good 
things,  Haldane  said, 

"  Look  here,  Mr.  Growther,  are  you  in  the  habit 
of  giving  disreputable  people  such  a  dinner  as  that  ?  " 

"  If  it's  good  enough  for  me,  it's  good  enough  for 
you,"  was  the  tart  reply. 

"  O,  I'm  not  finding  fault ;  I  only  wanted  you  to 
know  that  I  would  be  grateful  for  much  less." 

"  I'm  not  doin'  it  to  please  you,  but  to  spite  myself." 

"  Have  your  own  way,  of  course,"  said  Haldane, 
laughing  ;  "  it's  a  little  odd,  though,  that  your  spite 
against  yourself  should  mean  so  much  practical 
kindness  to  me." 


A  MAN  WHO  HATED  HIMSELF.  231 

"  Hold  on  !  "  cried  his  host,  as  Haldane  was  about 
to  attack  the  viands,;  "  ain't  you  goin'  to  say  grace  ?  " 
"Well,"  said  the  young  man,  somewhat  embar 
rassed,  "  I  would  rather  you  would  say  it  for  me." 
"  I  might  as  well  eat  your  dinner  for  you." 
"  Mr.  Growther,  you  are  an  unusually  honest  man, 
and  I  think  a  kind  one  ;  so  I  am  not  going  to   act 
out  any  lies  before  you.     Although  your  dinner  is 
the  best  one  I  have  seen  for  many  a  long  day,  or 
am   likely  to  see,  yet,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  could 
swear  over  it  easier  than  I  could  pray  over  it." 

"  A-a-h  !  that's  the  right  spirit  ;  that's  the  way  I 
ought  to  feel.  Now  you  see  what  a  mean  hypocrite 
I  am.  I'm  no  Christian — far  from  it — and  yet  I 
always  have  a  sneakin'  wish  to  say  grace  over  my 
victuals.  As  if  it  would  do  any  body  any  good  ! 
If  I'd  jest  swear  over  'em,  as  you  say,  then  I  would 
be  consistent.". 

"Are  you  in  earnest  in  all  this  strange  talk?" 
"Yes,  I  am;  I  hate  myself." 
"Why?" 

"  Because  I  know  all  about  myself.     A-a-h !  " 
"  How  many  poor,  hungry  people  have  you  fed 
since  the  year  opened  ?  " 

"Your  question  shows  me  jest  what  I  am.  I 
could  tell  you  within  three  or  four.  I  found  my 
self  a-countin'  of  'em  up  and  a-gloryin'  in  it  all  the 
tother  night,  takin'  credit  to  myself  for  givin'  away 
a  few  victuals  after  I  had  had  plenty  myself.  Think 
of  a  man  gittin'  self-righteous  over  givin'  to  some 
poor  fellow-critters  what  he  couldn't  eat  himself! 
If  that  ain't  meanness,  what  is  it  ?  A-a-h  !  " 


232     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  But  you  haven't  told  me  how  many  you  have 
fed." 

"  No,  and  I  ain't  a-goin'  to— jest  to  spite  myself. 
I  want  to  tell  you,  and  to  take  credit  for  it,  but  I'll 
head  myself  off  this  time." 

"  But  you  could  eat  these  things  which  you  are 
serving  to  me — if  not  to-day,  why,  then  to-morrow." 

"  To-morrow's  income  will  provide  for  to-morrow. 
The  Lord  shows  he's  down  on  this  savin'  and  hoard- 
in*  up  of  things,  for  he  makes  'em  get  musty  right 
away  ;  and  if  any  thing  spiles  on  my  hands  I'm  mad 
enough  to  bite  myself  in  two." 

"  But  if  you  treat  all  stragglers  as  you  do  me, 
you  do  not  give  away  odds  and  ends  and  what's  left 
over.  This  coffee  is  fine  old  Java,  and  a  more  deli 
cate  ham  I  never  tasted." 

"  Now  you  hit  me  twice.  I  will  have  the  best 
for  myself,  instead  of  practicin'  self-denial  and  econ 
omy.  Then  I'm  always  wantin'  to  get  some  second-^ 
hand  victuals  to  give  away,  but  I  daresn't.  You 
see  I  read  the  Bible  sometimes,  and  it's  the  most 
awfully  oncomfortable  book  that  ever  was  written. 
You  know  what  the  Lord  says  in  it — or  you  ought 
to — about  what  we  do  for  the  least  of  these  his 
brethren  ;  that  means  such  as  you,  only  you're  a 
sort  of  black  sheep  in  the  family  ;  and  if  words  have 
any  sense  at  all,  the  Lord  takes  my  givin'  you  a 
dinner  the  same  as  if  I  gave  it  to  him.  Now  s'pose 
the  Lord  came  to  my  house,  as  he  did  to  Mary  and 
Martha's,  and  I  should  git  him  up  a  slimpsy  din 
ner  of  second-hand  victuals,  and  stand  by  a-chucklin' 
that  I  had  saved  twenty-five  cents  on  it,  wouldn't 


A  MAN  WHO  HA  TED  HIMSELF. 


233 


that  be  meanness  itself?  Some  time  ago  I  had  a 
ham  that  I  couldn't  and  wouldn't  eat,  and  they 
wouldn't  take  it  back  at  the  store,  so  I  got  some  of 
the  Lord's  poor  brethren  to  come  to  dinner,  and  I 
palmed  it  off  on  them.  But  I  had  to  cuss  myself 
the  whole  evenin'  to  pay  up  for  it !  A-a-h  !  " 

"  By  Jove  !  "  cried  Haldane,  dropping  his  knife 
and  fork,  and  looking  admiringly  at  his  host,  who 
stood  on  the  hearth,  running  his  fingers  through  his 
shock  of  white  hair,  his  shriveled  and  bristling  as 
pect  making  a  marked  contrast  with  his  sleek  and 
lazy  cat  and  dog — "  by  Jove,  you  are  what  I  call  a 
Christian  !  " 

"  Now,  look  here,  young  man,"  said  Mr.  Grow- 
ther,  wrathfully,  " though  you  are  under  no  obliga 
tions  to  me,  you've  got  no  business  makin'  game 
of  me  and  callin'  me  names,  and  I  won't  stand  it. 
You've  got  to  be  civil  and  speak  the  truth  while 
you're  on  my  premises,  whether  you  want  to  or  no." 

Haldane  shrugged  his_  shoulders,  laughed,  and 
made  haste  with  his  dinner,  for  with  such  a  gusty 
and  variable  host  he  might  not  get  a  chance  to  finish 
it.  As  he  glanced  around  the  room,  however,  and 
saw  how  cozy  and  inviting  it  might  be  made  by  a 
little  order  and  homelike  arrangement,  he  determined 
to  fix  it  up  according  to  his  own  ideas,  if  he  could 
accomplish  it  without  actually  coming  to  blows  with 
the  occupant. 

"  Who  keeps  house  for  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  nobody  could  stand  me !  " 

"  Will  you  stand  me  for  about  half  an  hour  while 
I  fix  up  this  room  for  you  ?  " 


234    KNIGHT  OF  THR  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

"No!" 

"  What  will  you  do  if  I  attempt  it?  " 

"  I'll  set  the  dog  on  you." 

"  Nothing  worse  ?  "  asked  Haldane,  with  a  laugh 
ing  glance  at  the  lazy  cur. 

''You  might  take  something." 

An  expression  of  sharp  pain  crossed  the  young 
man's  face  ;  the  sunshine  faded  out  of  it  utterly, 
and  he  said  in  a  cold,  constrained  voice,  as  he  rose 
from  the  table, 

"  O,  I  forgot  for  a  moment  that  I  am  a  thief  in 
the  world's  estimation." 

"  That  last  remark  of  mine  was  about  equal  to  a 
kick,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"  Little  worse." 

"  Ain't  you  used  to  'em  yet?  " 

"  I  ought  to  be." 

"  Why,  do  many  speak  out  as  plain  as  that?" 

"  They  act  it  out  just  as  plainly.  Since  you  don't 
trust  me,  you  had  better  watch  me,  lest  I  put  some 
cord-wood  in  my  pocket." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  do  ?  " 

"  If  the  world  is  going  to  insist  upon  it  that  I  am 
a  scoundrel  to  the  end  of  the  chapter,  I  want  to  find 
some  deep  water,  and  get  under  it,"  was  the  reckless 
reply. 

"  A-a-h  !  Didn't  I  say  we  respectable  people  and 
the  devil  was  in  partnership  over  you?  •  He  wants 
to  get  you  under  deep  water  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  we're  all  a-helpin'  him  along.  Young  man  I  am 
afraid  of  you,  like  the  rest,  and  it  seems  to  me  that 
I  think  more  of  my  old  duds  here  than  of  your  im- 


A  MAN  WHO  HATED  HIMSELF.  235 

mortal  soul  that  the  devil  has  almost  got.  But  I'm 
goin'  to  spite  him  and  myself  for  once.  I'm  goin' 
down  town  after  the  evenin*  paper,  and,  instead  of 
lockin'  up,  as  I  usually  do,  I  shall  leave  you  in 
charge.  I  know  it's  risky,  and  I  hate  to  do  it,  but 
it  seems  to  me  that  you  ought  ter  have  sense 
enough  to  know  that  if  you  take  all  I've  got  you 
would  be  jest  that  much  wuss  off;  "  and  before  Hal- 
dane  could  remonstrate  or  reply  he  took  a  curiously 
twisted  and  gnarled  cane  that  resembled  himself  and 
departed. 


236    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

MR.    GROWTHER  BECOMES   GIGANTIC. 

HALDANE  was  so  surprised  at  Mr.  Growther's 
unexpected  course  that  the  odd  old  man  was 
out  of  the  gate  before  the  situation  was  fully  real 
ized.  His  first  impulse  was  to  follow,  and  say  that 
he  would  not  be  left  alone  in  circumstances  that 
might  compromise  him  ;  but  a  second  thought  as 
sured  him  that  he  was  past  being  compromised.  So 
he  concluded  to  fall  in  with  his  host's  queer  humor, 
and  try  to  prove  himself  worthy  of  trust.  He  cleared 
away  his  dinner  with  as  much  deftness  as  could  be 
expected  of  one  engaging  in  an  unusual  task,  and 
put  every  thing  in  its  place,  or  what  should  be  its 
place.  He  next  found  a  broom,  and  commenced 
sweeping  the  room,  which  unwonted  proceeding 
aroused  the  slumbering  cat  and  dog,  and  they  sat 
up  and  stared  at  the  stranger  with  unfeigned  as 
tonishment. 

The  cat  looked  on  quietly  and  philosophically, 
acting  on  the  generally  received  principle  of  the 
world,  of  not  worrying  until  her  own  interests  seemed 
threatened.  But  the  dog  evidently  thought  of  the 
welfare  of  his  absent  master,  and  had  a  vague  trou 
bled  sense  that  something  was  wrong.  He  waddled 


MR.  GROWTHER  BECOMES  GIGANTIC.          237 

up  to  the  intruder,  and  gravely  smelt  of  him.  By 
some  canine  casuistry  he  arrived  at  the  same  conclu 
sion  which  society  had  reached — that  Haldane  was 
a  suspicious  character,  and  should  be  kept  at  arm's 
length.  Indeed,  the  sagacious  beast  seemed  to  feel 
toward  the  unfortunate  youth  precisely  the  same 
impulse  which  had  actuated  all  the  prudent  citizens 
in  town — a  desire  to  be  rid  of  him,  and  to  have 
nothing  to  do  with  him.  If  Haldane  would  only 
take  himself  off  to  parts  unknown,  to  die  in  a  gutter, 
or  to  commit  a  burglary,  that  he  might,  as  it  were, 
break  into  jail  again,  and  so  find  a  refuge  and  an 
abiding-place,  the  faithful  dog,  believing  his  master's 
interests  no  longer  endangered,  would  have  resumed 
his  nap  with  the  same  complacency  and  sense  of 
relief  which  scores  of  good  people  had  felt  as  they 
saw  Mr.  Arnot's  dishonored  clerk  disappearing  from 
their  premises,  after  their  curt  refusal  of  his  services. 
The  community's  thoughts  and  wary  eyes  followed 
him  only  sufficiently  long  to  be  sure  that  he  commit 
ted  no  further  depredations,  and  then  he  was  forgot 
ten,  or  remembered  only  as  a  danger,  or  an  annoy 
ance,  happily  escaped.  What  was  to  become  of 
this  drifting  human  atom  appeared  to  cause  no  more 
solicitude  in  town  than  Mr.  Growther's  dog  would 
feel  should  he  succeed  in  growling  the  intruder  out 
of  the  house ;  for,  being  somewhat  mystified,  and 
not  exactly  sure  as  to  his  master's  disposition  to 
ward  the  stranger,  he  concluded  to  limit  his  protest 
to  a  union  of  his  voice  with  what  might  be  termed 
society's  surly  and  monotonous  command,  u  Move 


238     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Haldane  tried  to  propitiate  this  mild  and  minia 
ture  Cerberus  with  a  dainty  piece  of  ham,  but  was 
rewarded  only  by  a  disdainful  sniff  and  angrier  snarl. 
The  politic  cat,  however,  with  wary  glances  at  the 
dog  and  the  stranger,  stole  noiselessly  to  the  meat, 
seized  it,  and  retreated  quickly  to  her  recognized 
corner  of  the  hearth  ;  but  when  the  youth,  hoping 
that  the  morsel  might  lead  to  a  friendly  acquaintance, 
offered  a  caress,  her  back  and  tail  went  up  instantly, 
and  she  became  the  embodiment  of  repellant  con 
servatism.  He  looked  at  her  a  moment,  and  then 
said,  with  a  bitter  laugh, 

"  If  you  could  be  transformed  into  a  woman,  as 
the  old  fairy  tale  goes,  you  would  make  an  excellent 
wife  for  Weitzel  Shrumpf,  while  the  snarling  dog 
represents  the  respectable  portion  of  the  communi 
ty,  that  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  me  whatever. 
When  my  pen,  however,  has  brought  name  and 
fame,  the  churlish  world  will  be  ready  to  fawn,  and 
forget  that  it  tried  to  trample  me  into  the  mire  of 
the  street  until  I  became  a  part  of  it.  Curses  on 
the  world !  I  would  give  half  my  life  for  the  genius 
of  a  Byron,  that  I  might  heap  scorn  on  society 
until  it  writhed  under  the  intolerable  burden.  O, 
that  I  had  a  wit  as  keen  and  quick  as  the  lightning, 
so  that  I  might  transfix  and  shrivel  up  the  well- 
dressed  monsters  that  now  shun  me  as  if  I  had  a 
contagion  !  " 

From  a  heart  overflowing  with  bitterness  and  im 
potent  protest  against  the  condition  to  which  his 
own  act  had  reduced  him,  Haldane  was  learning  to 
indulge  in  such  bitter  soliloquy  with  increasing  fre- 


MR.   GROWTHER  BECOMES  GIGANTIC. 


239 


quency.  It  is  ever  the  tendency  of  those  who  find 
themselves  at  odds  with  the  world,  and  in  conflict 
with  the  established  order  of  things,  to  inveigh  with 
communistic  extravagance  against  the  conservatism 
and  wary  prudence  which  they  themselves  would 
have  maintained  had  all  remained  well  with  them 
The  Haldane  who  had  meditated  "  gloomy  gran 
deur"  would  not  have  looked  at  the  poor,  besmirch 
ed  Haldane  who  had  just  accepted  what  the  world 
would  regard  as  charity.  The  only  reason  why  the 
proud,  aristocratic  youth  could  tolerate  and  make 
excuse  for  the  disreputable  character  who  was  glad 
to  eat  the  dinner  given  by  Jeremiah  Growther,  was 
that  this  same  ill-conditioned  fellow  was  himself. 
Thus  every  bitter  thing  which  he  said  against  society 
was  virtually  self-condemnation.  And  yet  his  course 
was  most  natural,  for  men  almost  invariably  forget 
that  their  views  change  with  their  fortunes.  Thou 
sands  will  at  once  form  a  positive  opinion  of  a  sub 
ject  from  its  aspect  seen  at  their  stand-point,  where 
one  will  walk  around  and  scan  it  on  all  sides. 

Either  to  spite  himself,  or  to  show  his  confidence 
in  one  whom  others  regarded  as  utterly  unworthy 
of  trust,  Mr.  Growther  remained  away  sufficiently 
long  for  Haldane  to  have  made  up  a  bundle  of  all 
the  valuables  in  the  house,  and  have  escaped.  The 
young  man  soon  discovered  that  there  were  valua 
bles,  but  any  thing  like  vulgar  theft  never  entered 
his  mind.  That  people  should  believe  him  capable 
of  acting  the  part  of  a  common  thief  was  one  of  the 
strange  things  in  his  present  experience  which  he 
could  not  understand. 


240    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  -CENTURY. 

Finally,  to  the  immense  relief  of  the  honest  and 
conservative  dog,  that  had  growled  himself  hoarse, 
Haldane  gave  the  room  its  finishing  touches,  and 
betook  himself  to  the  wood  -  pile  again.  The  cat 
watched  his  departure  with  philosophic  composure. 
Like  many  fair  ladies,  she  had  thought  chiefly  of 
herself  during  the  interview  with  the  stranger,  from 
whom  she  had  managed  to  secure  a  little  agreeable 
attention  without  giving  any  thing  in  return ;  and, 
now  that  it  was  over,  she  complacently  purred  her 
self  to  sleep,  with  nothing  to  regret. 

"  Hullo  !  you're  here  yet,  eh  !  "  said  Mr.  Growther, 
entering  the  gate. 

"  Can  you  name  any  good  reason  why  I  should 
not  be  here? "asked  Haldane,  somewhat  nettled. 

"  No,  but  I  could  plenty  of  bad  reasons." 

"  Keep  them  to  yourself  then,"  said  the  young 
man,  sullenly  resuming  his  work. 

"You  talk  as  if  you  was  an  honest  man,"  growled 
the  old  mangentle,  hobbling  into  the  house. 

Sitting  down  in  his  stout  oak  chair  to  rest  himself, 
he  stared  in  silence  for  a  time  at  the  changes  that 
Haldane  had  wrought.  At  last  he  commenced, 

"  Now,  Jeremiah  Growther,  I  hope  you  can  see 
that  you  are  a  perfect  pig !  I  hope  you  can  see  that 
dirt  and  confusion  are  your  nateral  elements ;  and 
you  had  to  live  like  a  pig  till  a  boy  just  out  of  jail 
came  to  show  you  what  it  was  to  live  like  a  decent 
human.  But  you've  been  showed  before,  and  you'll 
get  things  mixed  up  to-morrow.  A-a-h ! 

"  Where's  that  young  fellow  goin'  to  sleep  to 
night  ?  That's  none  o'  your  business.  Yes,  'tis  my 


MR.  GROWTHER  BECOMES  GIGANTIC.          241 

business,  too.  I'm  always  mighty  careful  to  know 
where  I'm  goin'  to  sleep,  and  if  I  don't  sleep  well 
my  cat  and  dog  hear  from  me  the  next  day.  You 
could  be  mighty  comfortable  to-night  in  your  good 
bed  with  this  young  chap  sittin'  on  a  curb-stun  in 
the  rain  ;  but  I  be  hanged  if  you  shall  be.  It's  be- 
ginnin'  to  rain  now — it's  goin'  to  be  a  mean  night — 
mean  as  yourself — a  cold,  oncomfortable  drizzle ; 
just  such  a  night  as  makes  these  poor  homeless 
devils  feel  that  since  they  are  half  under  water  they 
might  as  well  go  down  to  the  river  and  get  under 
altogether.  P'raps  they  do  it  sometimes  in  the  hope 
of  finding  a  warm,  dry  place  somewhere.  Dreadful 
suddint  change  for  'em,  though !  And  it's  we  re 
spectable,  comfortable  people  that's  to  blame  for 
these  suddint  changes  half  the  time. 

"  You  know  that  heady  young  chap  out  there  will 
go  to  the  bad  if  somebody  don't  pull  him  up.  You 
know  that  it  would  be  mean  as  dirt  to  let  him  go 
wanderin'  off  to-night  with  only  fifty  cents  in  his 
pocket,  tryin'  to  find  some  place  to  put  his  head  in 
out  of  the  storm  ;  and  yet  you  want  to  git  out  of 
doin'  any  thing  more  for  him.  You're  thinkin'  how 
much  more  comfortable  it  will  be  to  sit  dozin'  in 
your  chair,  and  not  have  any  stranger  botherin' 
round.  But  I'll  head  you  off  agin  in  spite  of  your 
cussed,  mean,  stingy,  selfish,  old,  shriveled-up  soul, 
that  would  like  to  take  its  ease  even  through 
the  hull  world  was  a-groanin'  outside  the  door. 
A-a-h !  " 

Having  made  it  clear  to  the  perverse  Jeremiah 
Growther — against  whom  he  seemed  to  hold  such  an 
ii 


242     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

inveterate  spite — what  he  must  do,  he  arose  and 
called  to  Haldane. 

"  What  are  you  doin'  out  there  in  the  rain?  " 

"  I'll  be  through  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  I  don't  want  the  rest  done  till  mornin'." 

"  It  will  pay  neither  of  us  for  me  to  come  back 
here  to  do  what's  left." 

"  It  may  pay  you,  and  as  to  its  payin'  me,  that's 
my  business." 

"  Not  altogether — I  wish  to  do  my  work  on  busi 
ness  principles  ;  I  haven't  got  down  to  charity  yet." 

"  Well,  have  your  own  way,  then  ;  I  s'pose  other 
folks  have  a  fight  to  have  .it  as  well  as  myself,  some 
times.  Come  in  soon  as  you  are  through." 

By  the  time  Haldane  finished  his  task  the  clouds 
had  settled  heavily  all  around  the  horizon,  hasten 
ing  forward  an  early  and  gloomy  twilight,  and  the 
rain  was  beginning  to  fall  steadily.  His  mood  com 
ported  with  the  aspect  of  sky  and  earth,  and  weari 
ness,  the  fast  ally  of  despondency,  aided  in  giving  a 
leaden  hue  to  the  future  and  a  leaden  weight  to  his 
thoughts.  The  prospect  of  trudging  a  mile  or  more 
through  the  drenching  rain  to  his  previous  squalid 
resting-place  at  No.  13,  whose  only  attraction  con 
sisted  in  the  fact  that  no  questions  were  asked,  was 
so  depressing  that  he  decided  to  ask  Mr.  Growther 
for  permission  to  sleep  in  the  corner  of  his  wood 
shed. 

"  Come  in,"  shouted  Mr.  Growther,  in  response 
to  his  knock  at  the  door. 

"  I'm  through,"  said  Haldane  laconically. 

"Well,    I    ain't,"    replied    Mr.    Growther;    "  you 


MR.  GROWTHER  BECOMES  GIGANTIC. 


243 


wouldn't  mind  taking  that  cheer  till  I  am,  would 
you  ?  " 

Haldane  found  the  cushioned  arm-chair  and  the 
genial  fire  exceedingly  to  his  taste,  and  he  felt  that 
in  such  comfortable  quarters  he  could  endure  hear 
ing  the  old  man  berate  himself  or  any  one  else  for 
an  hour  or  more. 

"  Where  are  you  goin'  to  sleep  to-night?"  asked 
his  quaint-visaged  host. 

"  That  is  a  problem  I  had  been  considering  my 
self,"  answered  Haldane,  dubiously.  "1  had  about 
concluded  that,  rather  than  walk  back  through  the 
rain  to  the  wretched  place  at  which  I  slept  last 
night,  I  would  ask  for  the  privilege  of  sleeping  in 
your  wood-shed.  It  wouldn't  be  much  worse  than 
the  other  place,  or  any  place  in  which  I  could  find 
lodging  if  1  were  known.  Since  I  did  not  steal  your 
silver  I  suppose  you  can  trust  me  with  your  wood." 

"  Yet  they  say  your  folks  is  rich." 

"  Yes,  I  can  go  to  as  elegant  a  house  as  there  is 
in  this  city." 

"  Why  in  thunder  don't  you  go  there,  then  ?  " 

"  Because  I  would  rather  be  in  your  wood-shed  and 
other  places  like  it  for  the  present." 

"  I  can't  understand  that." 

"  Perhaps  not,  but  there  are  worse  things  than 
sleeping  hard  and  cold.  There  are  people  who  suf 
fer  more  through  their  minds  than  their  bodies.  I 
am  not  going  back  among  my  former  acquaintances 
till  I  can  go  as  a  gentleman." 

The  old  man  looked  at  him  approvingly  a  mo 
ment,  and  then  said  sententiously, 


244    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Well,  you  may  be  a  bad  cuss,  but  you  ain't  a 
mean  one/' 

Haldane  laughed  outright.  "  Mr.  Growther,"  said 
he,  "you  do  me  honor.  I  foresee  you  will  trust  me 
with  your  wood-pile  to-night.'" 

"  No,  I  won't  nuther.  You  might  not  take  my 
wood,  but  you  would  take  cold,  and  then  I'd  have 
to  nuss  you  and  pay  doctor's  bills,  and  bother  with 
you  a  week  or  more.  I  might  even  have  your  fune 
ral  on  my  hands.  You  needn't  think  you're  goin' 
to  get  me  into  all  this  trouble,  fur  I'm  one  that 
hates  trouble,  unless  it's  fur  myself;  and,  if  I  do 
say  it,  it's  askin'  a  little  too  much  of  me,  almost  a 
stranger,  to  'tend  to  your  funeral.  I  don't  like  fune 
rals — never  did — and  I  won't  have  nothin'  to  do 
with  yours.  There's  a  room  right  up  stairs  here, 
over  the  kitchen,  where  you  can  sleep  without 
wakin'  up  the  hull  neighborhood  a  coughin'  before 
mornin'.  Now  don't  say  nothin'  more  about  it. 
I'm  thinkin'  of  myself  plaguey  sight  more'n  I  am  of 
you.  If  I  could  let  you  go  to  the  dogs  without 
worryin'  about  it,  I'd  do  it  quick  enough  ;  but  I've 
got  a  miserable,  sneakin'  old  conscience  that  won't 
stand  right  up  and  make  me  do  right,  like  a  man  ; 
but  when  I  want  to  do  somethin'  mean  it  begins  a 
gnawin'  and  a  gnawin'  at  me  till  I  have  to  do  what  I 
oughter  for  the  sake  of  a  little  peace  and  comfort. 
A-a-h  !  " 

"  Your  uncomfortable  conscience  seems  bent  on 
making  me  very  comfortable ;  and  yet  I  pledge  you 
my  word  that  I  will  stay  only  on  one  condition,  and 
that  is,  that  you  let  me  get  supper  and  breakfast  for 


MR.  GROWTHER  BECOMES  GIGANTIC.          245 

you,  and  also  read  the  paper  aloud  this  evening.  I 
can  see  that  you  are  tired  and  lame  from  your  walk. 
Will  you  agree  ?  " 

"  Can't  very  well  help  myself.  These  easterly 
storms  allers  brings  the  rheumatiz  into  my  legs. 
About  all  they  are  good  fur  now  is  to  have  the 
rheumatiz  in  'em.  So  set  plates  for  two,  and  fire 
ahead." 

Haldane  entered  into  his  tasks  with  almost  boyish 
zest.  "  I've  camped  out  in  the  woods,  and  am  con 
siderable  of  a  cook,"  said  he.  "  You  shall  have  some 
toast  browned  to  a  turn,  to  soak  in  your  tea,  and 
then  you  shall  have  some  more  with  hot  cream 
poured  over  it.  I'll  shave  the  smoked  beef  so  thin 
that  you  can  see  to  read  through  it." 

"  Umph  !  I  can't  see  after  dark  any  more  than 
an  old  hen." 

"  How  did  you  expect  to  read  the  paper  then  ?  " 
asked  Haldane,  without  pausing  in  his  labors. 

"  I  only  read  the  headin's.  I  might  as  well  make 
up  the  rest  as  the  editors,  fur  then  I  can  make  it  up 
to  suit  me.  It's  all  made  up  half  the  time,  you  know." 

"  Well,  you  shall  hear  the  editors'  yarns  to-night 
then,  by  way  of  variety." 

The  old  man  watched  the  eager  young  fellow  as 
he  bustled  from  the  cupboard  to  the  table,  and  from 
the  store-closet  to  the  fireplace,  with  a  kindly  twin 
kle  in  his  small  eyes,  from  which  the  deep  wrin 
kles  ran  in  all  -directions  and  in  strange  complexity. 
There  could  scarcely  be  a  greater  contrast  than  that 
between  the  headstrong  and  stalwart  youth  and  the 
withered  and  eccentric  hermit ;  but  it  would  seem 


246     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

that  mutual  kindness  is  a  common  ground  on  which 
all  the  world  can  meet  and  add  somewhat  to  each 
other's  welfare. 

The  sound  hard  wood  which  Haldane  had  just 
sawn  into  billets  blazed  cheerily  on  the  hearth,  fill 
ing  the  quaint  old  kitchen  with  weird  and  flickering 
lights  and  shades.  Mr.  Growther  was  projected 
against  the  opposite  wall  in  the  aspect  of  a  benevo 
lent  giant,  and  perhaps  the  large,  kindly,  but  unsub 
stantial  shadow  was  a  truer  type  of  the  man  than  the 
shriveled  anatomy  with  which  the  town  was  famil 
iar.  The  conservative  dog,  no  longer  disquieted  by 
doubts  and  fears,  sat  up  and  blinked  approvingly  at 
the  preparation  for  supper.  The  politic  cat,  now 
satisfied  that  any  attentions  to  the  stranger  would 
not  compromise  her,  and  might  lead  to  another  deli 
cate  morsel,  fawned  against  his  legs,  and  purred  as 
affectionately  as  if  she  had  known  him  all  her  life  and 
would  not  scratch  him  instantly  if  he  did  any  thing 
displeasing  to  her. 

Take  it  altogether,  it  was  a  domestic  scene  which 
would  have  done  Mrs.  Arnot's  heart  good  to  have 
witnessed  ;  but  poor  Mrs.  Haldane  would  have  sighed 
over  it  as  so  utterly  unconventional  as  to  be  another 
proof  of  her  son's  unnatural  tastes.  In  her  esti 
mation  he  should  spend  social  evenings  only  in  aris 
tocratic  parlors  ;  and  she  mourned  over  the  fact  that 
from  henceforth  he  was  excluded  from  these  privi 
leged  places  of  his  birthright,  with  a  grief  only  less 
poignant  than  her  sorrow  over  what  seemed  to  her 
a  cognate  truth,  that  his  course  and  character  also 
excluded  him  from  heaven. 


HOW  PUBLIC  OPINION  IS  OFTEN  MADE.       247 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

- 

HOW  PUBLIC  OPINION   IS  OFTEN  MADE. 

• 

"  T  DON'T   s'pose   there's   any  use  of  two   such 

J.  reprobates  as  us  thinkin'  about  sayin'  grace," 
said  Mr.  Growther,  taking  his  place  at  the  head  of 
the  table;  "  and  yet,  as  I  said,  I  allers  have  a  sneak- 
in'  wish  jest  to  go  through  the  form  ;  so  we'll  all  be 
gin  in  the  same  way— cat  and  dog  and  God's  rational 
critters.  Howsomever,  they  don't  know  no  better, 
and  so  their  consciences  is  clear.  I'll  own  up  this 
toast  is  good,  if  I  am  eatin'  it  like  a  heathen.  If 
you  can't  find  any  thing  else  to  do,  you  can  take  to 
cookin'  for  a  livin'." 

"  No  one  in  town,  save  yourself,  would  trust  me 
in  their  kitchen." 

"  Well,  it  does  seem  as  if  a  man  had  better  lose 
every  thing  rather  than  his  character,"  said  Mr. 
Growther  thoughtfully. 

"  Then  it  seems  a  pity  a  man  can  lose  it  so  cursed 
easily,"  added  Haldane  bitterly,  "  for,  having  lost  it; 
all  the  respectable  and  well-to-do  would  rather  one 
should  go  to  the  devil  a  thousand  times  than  give 
him  a  chance  to  win  it  back  again." 

"  You  put  it  rather  strong— rather  strong,"  said 
the  old  man,  shaking  his  head  ;  "  for  some  reason  of 


248     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

other  I  am  not  as  mad  at  myself  and  every  thing  and 
everybody  to-night  as  usual,  and  I  can  see  things 
clearer.  Be  honest  now.  A  month  ago  you  belong 
ed  to  the  rich,  high-flyin'  class.  How  much  then 
would  you  have  had  to  do  with  a  young  fellow  of 
whom  you  knew  only  four  things— that  he  gambled, 
got  drunk,  'bezzled  a  thousand  dollars,  and  had  been 
in  jail  ?  That's  all  most  people  in  town  know  about 
you." 

Haldane  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork  and  fairly 
groaned. 

"  I  know  the  plain  truth  is  tough  to  hear  and 
think  about,  and  I'm  an  old  brute  to  spile  your  sup 
per  by  bringing  it  up.  I  hope  you  won't  think  I'm 
tryin'  to  save  some  victuals  by  doin'  it.  And  yet 
it's  the  truth,  and  you've  got  to  face  it.  But  face  it 
to-morrow — face  it  to-morrow ;  have  a  comfortable 
time  to-night." 

"  Your  statement  of  the  case  is  perfectly  bald," 
said  Haldane,  with  a  troubled  brow  ;  "  there  are  ex 
planatory  and  excusing  circumstances." 

"  Yes,  no  doubt;  but  the  world  don't  take  much 
account  of  them.  When  one  gits  into  a  scrape, 
about  the  only  question  asked  is,  What  did  he  do  ? 
And  they  all  jump  to  the  conclusion  that  if  he  did 
it  once  he'll  do  it  agin.  Lookin'  into  the  circum 
stances  takes  time  and  trouble,  and  it  isn't  human 
nature  to  bother  much  about  other  people." 

"  What  chance  is  there,  then,  for  such  as  I  am  ?" 

The  old  man  hitched  uneasily  on  his  chair,  but 
at  last,  with  his  characteristic  bluntness,  said, 
"  Hanged  if  I  know  !  They  say  that  them  that  gits 


HOW  PUBLIC  OPINION  IS  OFTEN  MADE.       249 

down  doesn't  very  often  git  up  again.     Yet  I  know 

they  do  sometimes." 

"  What  would  you  do  if  you  were  me  ?  " 

"  Hanged  if  I  know  that  either !    Sit  down  and 

o 

cuss  myself  to  all  eternity,  like  enough.  I  feel  like 
doin'  it  sometimes  as  it  is.  A-a-h  !  " 

"  I  think  I  know  a  way  out  of  the  slough,"  said 
Haldane  more  composedly — his  thoughts  recurring 
to  his  literary  hopes — "  and  if  I  do,  you  will  not  be 
sorry." 

"  Of  course  I  won't  be  sorry.  A  man  allers  hates 
one  who  holds  a  mortgage  against  him  which  is 
sure  to  be  foreclosed.  That's  the  way  the  devil's 
got  me,  and  I  hate  him  about  as  bad  as  I  do  myself, 
and  spite  him  every  chance  I  git.  Of  course,  I'll 
be  glad  to  see  you  git  out  of  his  clutches ;  but  he's 
got  his  claws  in  you  deep,  and  he  holds  on  to  a  feller 
as  if  he'd  pull  him  in  two  before  he'll  let  go." 

"  Mr.  Growther,  I  don't  want  to  get  into  a  quar 
rel  with  you,  for  I  have  found  that  you  are  very 
touchy  on  a  certain  point ;  but  I  cannot  help  hinting 
that  you  are  destined  to  meet  a  great  disappointment 
when  through  with  your  earthly  worry.  I  wish  my 
chances  were  as  good  as  yours." 

"  Now  you  are  beginnin'  to  talk  foolishly.  I  shall 
never  be  rid  of  myself,  and  so  will  never  be  rid  of 
my  worry." 

"  Well,  well,  we  won't  discuss  the  question  ;  it's 
too  deep  for  us  both  ;  but  in  my  judgment  it  will  be 
a  great  piece  of  injustice  if  you  ever  find  a  warmer 
place  than  your  own  hearthstone." 

"  That's  mighty  hot,   sometimes,  boy ;   and,  be- 


250    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

sides,  your  judgment  hasn't  led  you  very  straight 
so  far,"  said  the  old  man  testily.  "  But  don't  talk 
of  such  things.  I  don't  want  to  come  to  'em  till  I 
have  to." 

"  Suppose  I  should  become  rich  and  famous, 
Mr.  Growther,"  said  Haldane,  changing  the  subject ; 
"  would  you  let  me  take  a  meal  with  you  then  ?  " 

"  That  depends.   If  you  put  on  any  airs  I -wouldn't." 
•'"  Good  for  you  !  " 

"  O,  I'd  want  to  make  much  of  you,  and  tell  how 
I  helped  you  when  you  was  down,  and  so  git  all 
the  reflected  glory  I  could  out  of  you.  I've  learned 
how  my  sneakin'  old  speret  pints  every  time  ;  but 
I'll  head  it  off,  and  drive  it  back  as  I  would  a  fox 
into  its  hole." 

In  spite  of  some  rather  harrowing  and  gloomy 
thoughts  on  the  part  of  two  of  them,  the  four  in 
mates  of  the  cottage  made  a  very  comfortable  sup 
per  ;  for  Mr.  Growther  always  insisted  that  since  his 
cat  and  dog  could  "  stand  him,"  they  should  fare  as 
well  as  he  did. 

Having  cleared  the  table,  Haldane  lighted  a  can 
dle — kerosene  lamps  were  an  abomination  that  Mr. 
Growther  would  not  abide  —  and  began  reading 
aloud  the  Evening  Spy.  The  old  gentleman  half  lis 
tened  and  half  dozed,  pricking  up  his  ears  at  some 
tale  of  trouble  or  crime,  and  almost  snoring  through 
politics  and  finance.  At  last  he  was  half  startled  out 
of  his  chair  by  a  loud,  wrathful  oath  from  Haldane. 

"  Look  .here,  young  man,"  he  said ;  "  the  devil 
isn't  so  far  off  from  either  of  us  that  you  need  shout 
for  him." 


HO  W  P  UBLIC  OPINION  IS  OFTEN  MADE.       2  5 1 

"  True,  indeed  !  he  isn't  far  off,  and  he  has  every 
thing  his  own  way  in  this  world.  Listen  to  this — " 
and  he  read  with  sharp,  bitter  emphasis  the  follow 
ing  editorial  paragraph,  headed  "  Unnatural  Deprav- 
ity:" 

"  Being  ever  inclined  to  view  charitably  the  faults 
and  failings  of  others,  and  to  make  allowance  for  the 
natural  giddiness  of  youth,  we  gave  a  rather  lenient 
estimate,  not  of  the  crime  committed  by  Mr.  Arnot's 
clerk,  Egbert  Haldane,  but  of  the  young  man  him 
self.  It  would  seem  that  our  disposition  to  be 
kindly  led  us  into  error,  for  we  learn  from  our  most 
respectable  German  contemporary,  published  in  this 
city,  that  this  same  unscrupulous  young  fraud  has 
been  guilty  of  the  meanness  of  taking  advantage  of 
a  poor  foreigner's  ignorance  of  our  language.  Hav 
ing  found  it  impossible  to  obtain  lodgings  among 
those  posted  in  the  current  news  of  the  day,  and 
thus  to  impose  on  any  one  to  whom  he  was  known, 
he  succeeded  in  obtaining  board  of  a  respectable 
German,  and  ran  up  as  large  a  bill  as  possible  at  the 
bar,  of  course.  When  the  landlord  of  the  hotel  and 
restaurant  at  last  asked  for  a  settlement,  this  young 
scapegrace  had  the  insolence  to  insist  that  he  had 
paid  every  cent  of  his  bill,  though  he  had  not  a  scrap 
of  paper  or  proof  to  support  his  assertion.  Finding 
that  this  game  of  bluster  would  not  succeed,  and 
that  his  justly  incensed  host  was  about  to  ask  for 
his  arrest,  he  speedily  came  down  from  his  high  and 
virtuous  mood,  and  compromised  by  pretending  to 
offer  all  the  money  he  had. 

"  This  was  undoubtedly  a  mere  pretense,  for  he 


252     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH   CENTU-RY. 

had  worn  a  valuable  watch  in  the  morning,  and  had 
parted  with  it  during  the  day.  Though  the  sum  he 
apparently  had  upon  his  person  was  scarcely  half 
payment,  the  kind-hearted  German  took  him  at  his 
word,  and  also  left  him  seventy-five  cents  to  procure 
lodgings  elsewhere.  In  what  role  of  crime  he  will 
next  appear  it  is  hard  to  guess ;  but  it  seems  a  pity 
that  Mr.  Arnot  did  not  give  him  the  full  benefit  of 
the  law,  for  thus  the  community  would  have  been 
rid,  for  a  time  at  least,  of  one  who  can  serve  his  day 
and  generation  better  at  breaking  stone  under  the 
direction  of  the  State  than  by  any  methods  of  his 
own  choosing,  He  is  one  of  those  phenomenal 
cases  of  unnatural  depravity ;  for,  as  far  as  we  can 
learn,  he  comes  from  a  home  of  wealth,  refinement, 
and  even  Christian  culture.  We  warn  our  fellow- 
citizens  against  him." 

"  A-a-a-h  !  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Growther,  in  prolonged 
and  painful  utterance,  as  if  one  of  his  teeth  had  just 
been  drawn.  "  Now  that  is  tough  !  I  don't  wonder 
you  think  Satan  had  a  finger  in  that  pie.  Didn't  I 
tell  you  the  editors  made  up  half  that's  in  the  pa 
pers  ?  I  don't  know  what  started  this  story.  There's 
generally  a  little  beginning,  like  the  seed  of  a  big 
flauntin'  weed  ;  but  I  don't  believe  you  did  so  mean 
a  thing.  In  fact,  I  don't  think  I'm  quite  mean 
enough  to  have  done  it  myself." 

"  You,  and  perhaps  one  other  person,  will  be  the 
only  ones  in  town,  then,  who  will  not  believe  it 
against  me.  I  know  I've  acted  wrong  and  like  a 
fool;  but  what  chance  has  a  fellow  when  he  gets 
credit  for  evil  only,  and  a  hundred-fold  more  evil 


HOW  PUBLIC  OPINION  IS  OFTEN  MADE.     253 

than  is  in  him  ?  Curse  it  all !  since  every  one  insists 
that  I  have  gone  wholly  over  to  the  devil,  I  might 
as  well  go." 

"  That's  it,  that's  it !  we're  all  right  at  his  elbow, 
a-helpin'  him  along.  But  how  did  this  story  start  ? 
The  scribbler  in  the  German  paper  couldn't  have 
spun  it,  like  a  spider,  hully  out  of  his  own  in'ards." 

Haldane  told  him  the  whole  story,  sketching  the 
"  kind-hearted  German"  in  his  true  colors. 

At  its  conclusion  Mr.  Growther  drew  a  long,  medi 
tative  breath,  and  remarked  sententiously,  "  Well, 
I've  alters  heard  that  'sperience  was  an  awfully  dear 
school ;  but  we  do  learn  in  it.  I'll  bet  my  head  you 
will  never  pay  another  dollar  without  takin'  a  re 
ceipt." 

"  What  chance  will  I  ever  have  to  make  another 
dollar?  They  have  raised  a  mad-dog  cry  against 
me,  and  I  shall  be  treated  as  if  I  were  a  dog." 

"  Why  don't  you  go  home,  then  ?  " 

"  I'll  go  to  the  bottom  of  the  river  first." 

"  That  would  suit  the  devil,  the  crabs,  and  the 
eels,"  remarked  Mr.  Growther. 

"  Faugh  !  crabs  and  eels !  "  exclaimed  Haldane 
with  a  shudder  of  disgust. 

"  That's  all  you'd  find  at  the  bottom  of  the  river, 
except  mud,"  responded  Mr.  Growther,  effectually 
quenching  all  tragic  and  suicidal  ideas  by  his  pro 
saic  statement  of  the  facts.  "Young  man,"  he 
continued,  tottering  to  his  feet,  "  I  s'pose  you.  real 
ize  that  you  are  in  a  pretty  bad  fix.  I  ain't  much 
of  a  mother  at  comfortin'.  When  I  feel  most  sorry 
for  any  one  I'm  most  crabbed.  It's  one  of  my  mean 


254     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

ways.  If  there's  many  screws  loose  in  you,  you  will 
go  under.  If  you  are  rash,  or  cowardly,  or  weak — 
that  is,  ready  to  give  up-like — you  will  make  a  final 
mess  of  your  life ;  hut  if  you  fight  your  way  up 
you'll  be  a  good  deal  of  a  man.  Seems  to  me  if  I 
was  as  young  and  strong  as  you  be,  I'd  pitch  in.  I'd 
spite  myself;  I'd  spite  the  devil ;  I'd  beat  the  world; 
I'd  just  grit  my  teeth,  and  go  fur  myself  and  every 
thing  else  that  stood  in  my  way,  and  I'd  whip  'em 
all  out,  or  I'd  die  a-fightin*.  But  I've  got  so  old  and 
rheumatic  that  all  I  can  do  is  cuss.  A-a-h !  " 

"  I  will  take  your  advice — I  will  fight  it  out," 
exclaimed  the  excitable  youth  with  an  oath.  Be 
tween  indignation  and  desperation  he  was  thoroughly 
aroused.  He  already  cherished  only  revenge  to 
ward  the  world,  and  he  was  catching  the  old  man's 
vindictive  spirit  toward  himself. 

Mr.  Growther  seemed  almost  as  deeply  incensed 
as  his  guest  at  the  gross  injustice  of  the  paragraph, 
which,  nevertheless,  would  be  widely  copied,  and 
create  public  opinion,  and  so  double  the  difficulties 
in  the  young  man's  way;  and  he  kept  up  as  steady 
*'a  grumble  and  growl  as  had  his  sorely  disquieted 
dog  in  the  afternoon.  But  Haldane  lowered  at  the 
fire  for  a  long  time  in  silence. 

"  Well,"  concluded  the  quaint  old  cynic,  "matters 
can't  be  mended  by  swearin'  at  'em,  is  advice  I  often 
give  myself,  but  never  take.  I  s'pose  it's  bed-time. 
To-morrow  we  will  take  another  squint  at  your  ugly 
fortunes,  and  see  which  side  pints  toward  daylight. 
Would  you  mind  readin'  a  chapter  in  the  Bible 
first?" 


HO W  PUBLIC  OPINION  IS  OFTEN  MADE.     255 

"  What  have  I  to  do  with  the  Bible?  " 

"  Well,  the  Bible  has  a  good  deal  to  say  about  you 
and  most  other  people." 

"  Like  those  who  pretend  to  believe  it,  it  has 
nothing  good  to  say  about  me.  I've  had  about  all 
the  hard  names  I  can  stand  for  one  night." 

"  Read  where  it  hits  some  other  folks,  then." 

"  O,  I  will  read  anywhere  you  like.  It's  a  pity  if 
I  can't  do  that  much  for  perhaps  the  only  one  now 
left  in  the  world  who  would  show  me  a  kindness." 

"  That's  a  good  fellow.  There's  one  chapter  I'd 
like  to  hear  to'-night.  The  words  come  out  so  strong 
and  hearty-like  that  they  generally  express  just  my 
feelin's.  Find  the  twenty-third  chapter  of  Matthew, 
and  read  where  it  says,  *  Woe  unto  you,  scribes  and 
Pharisees,  hypocrites/  ' 

Haldane  read  the  chapter  with  much  zest,  credit 
ing  all  its  denunciation  to  others,  in  accordance  with 
a  very  general  fashion.  When  he  came  to  the  words, 
"  Ye  serpents,  ye  generation  of  vipers,"  the  old  man 
fairly  rubbed  his  hands  together  in  his  satisfaction, 
exclaiming: 

"  That's  it !  that's  genuine!  that's  telling  us  sleek, 
comfortable  sinners  the  truth  without  mincin' !  No 
smooth,  deludin'  lies  in  that  chapter.  That's  the 
way  to  talk  to  people  who  don't  want  their  right 
hand  to  know  what  cussedness  their  left  hand  is  up 
to.  Now,  Jeremiah  Growther,  the  next  time  you 
want  to  do  a  mean  thing  that  you  wouldn't  have 
all  the  town  know,  just  remember  what  a  wrigglin' 
snake  in  the  grass  you  are." 

With  this  personal  exhortation  Mr.  Growther 
6 


256    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

brought  the  evening  to  a  close,  and,  having  directed 
Haldane  to  his  comfortable  quarters,  hobbled  and 
mumbled  off  to  an  adjoining  room,  and  retired  for 
the  night.  The  dying  fire  revealed  for  a  time  the 
slumbering  cat  and  dog,  but  gradually  the  quaint 
old  kitchen  faded  into  a  blank  of  darkness. 


A  PAPER  PONIARD.  257 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

A  PAPER  PONIARD. 

THROUGHOUT  an  early  breakfast  Mr.  Grow- 
ther  appeared  to  be  revolving  some  subject 
in  his  mind,  and  his  question,  at  last,  was  only  seem 
ingly  abrupt,  for  it  came  at  the  end  of  quite  a  long 
mental  altercation,  in  which,  of  course,  he  took  sides 
against  himself. 

"  I  say,  young  man,  do  you  think  you  could  stand 
me?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Haldane. 

"  Well,  before  you  say  no,  you  ought  to  realize  all 
the  bearin's  of  the  case.  The  town  is  down  on  you. 
Respectable  people  won't  have  nothin'  to  do  with 
you,  any  more  than  they  would  walk  arm  in  arm 
with  the  charcoal-man  in  their  Sunday  toggery.  I 
aren't  respectable,  so  you  can't  blacken  me.  I've 
showed  you  I'm  not  afraid  to  trust  you.  You  can't 
sleep  in  the  streets,  you  can't  eat  pavin'-stuns  and 
mud,  and  you  won't  go  home.  This  brings  me  to 
the  question  again :  Can  you  stand  me  ?  I  warn 
you  I'm  an  awful  oncomfortable  customer  to  live 
with ;  I  won't  take  any  mean  advantage  of  you  in 
this  respect,  and,  what's  more,  I  don't  s'pose  I'll 
behave  any  better  for  your  sake  or  any  body-  else's. 


258     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

I'm  all  finished  and  cooled  off,  like  an  old  iron  cast 
ing,  and  can't  be  bent  or  made  over  in  any  other 
shape.  You're  crooked  enough,  the  Lord  knows ; 
but  you're  kind  o'  limber  yet  in  your  moral  jints, 
and  you  may  git  yourself  in  decent  shape  if  you  have 
a  chance.  I've  taken  a  notion  to  give  you  a  chance. 
The  only  question  is,  Can  you  stand  me?" 

"  It  would  be  strange  if  I  could  not  stand  the  only 
man  in  Hillaton  who  was  shown  a  human  and  friend 
ly  interest  in  me.  But  the  thing  I  can't  stand  is 
taking  charity." 

"Who's  asked  you  to  take  charity?" 
"  What  else  would  it  be — my  living  here  on  you  ?  " 
"  I   can  open  a  boardin'-house  if  I  want  to,  can't 
I  ?     I  have  a  right  to  lend  my  own  money,  I  s'pose. 
You  can  open  a  ledger  account  with  me  to  a  penny. 
What's  more,   I'll  give  you  a  receipt  every  time," 
added  the   old   man,    with    a   twinkle    in   his   eye ; 
"  you  don't  catch  me  gettin'  into  the  papers  as  '  kind- 
hearted  '  Mr.  Growther." 

"  Mr.  Growther,  I  can  scarcely  understand  your 
kindness  to  me,  for  I  have  no  claim  on  you  what^ 
ever.  As  "much  as  I  would  like  to  accept  your  offer, 
I  scarcely  feel  it  right  to  do  so.  I  will  bring  discre 
dit  to  you  with  certainty,  and  my  chances  of  repay 
ing  you  now  seem  very  doubtful." 

"  Now,  look  here,  young  man,  I've  got  to  take  my 
choice  'twixt  two  evils.  On  one  side  is  you.  I 
don't  want  you  botherin'  round,  seein'  my  mean 
ways.  For  the  sake  of  decency  I'll  have  to  try  to 
hold  in  a  little  before  you,  while  before  my  cat  and 
dog  I  can  let  out  as  I  please;  so  I'd  rather  live  alone 


A  PAPER  PONIARD.  259 

But  the  tother  side  is  a  plaguy  sight  worse.  If  I 
should  let  you  go  a-wanderin'  off  you  don't  know 
where,  the  same  as  if  I  should  start  my  dog  off  with 
a  kick,  knowin'  that  every  one  else  in -town  would 
add  a  kick  or  fire  a  stun,  I  couldn't  sleep  nights  or 
enjoy  my  vittels.  I'd  feel  so  mean  that  I  should 
jest  set  and  cuss  myself  from  mornin'  till  night. 
Look  here,  now  ;  I  couldn't  stan'  it,"  concluded  Mr. 
Growther,  overcome  by  the  picture  of  his  own  wretch 
edness.  "Let's  have  no  more  words.  Come  back 
every  night  till  you  can  do  better.  Open  an  account 
with  me.  Charge  what  you  please  for  board  and  lodg 
ing  and  pay  all  back  with  lawful  interest,  if  it'll  make 
you  sleep  better."  And  so  it  was  finally  arranged. 

Haldane  started  out  into  the  sun-lighted  streets 
of  the  city  as  a  man  might  sally  forth  in  an  enemy's 
country,  fearing  the  danger  that  lurked  on  every 
side,  and  feeling  that  his  best  hope  was  that  he 
might  be  unnoted  and  unknown.  He  knew  that 
the  glance  of  recognition  would- also  be  a  glance  of 
aversion  and  scorn,  and,  to  his  nature  any  manifesta 
tion  of  contempt  was  worse  than  a  blow.  He  now 
clung  to  his  literary  ventures  as  the  one  rope  by 
which  he  could  draw  himself  out  of  the  depths  into 
which  he  had  fallen,  and  felt  sure  that  he  must  hear 
from  some  of  his  manuscripts  -''within  a  day  or  two. 
He  went  to  the  post-office  in  a  tremor  of  anxiety 
only  to  hear  the  usual  response,  "  Nothing  for  E.  H.'^ 

With  heavy  steps  and  a  sinking  heart  he  then  set 
out  in  his  search  for  something  to  do,  and  after 
walking  weary  miles  he  found  only  a  small  bit  of 
work,  for  which  he  received  but  small  compensation. 


260    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

He  returned  despondently  in  the  evening  to  his 
refuge  at  Mr.  Growther's  cottage,  and  his  quaint 
good  Samaritan  showed  his  sympathy  by  maintain 
ing  a  perpetual  growl  at  himself  and  the  "  disjinted 
world  "  in  general.  But  Haldane  lowered  at  the  fire 
and  said  little. 

Several  successive  days  brought  disappointment, 
discouragement,  and  even  worse.  The  slanderous 
paragraph  concerning  his  relations  with  Mr.  Shrumpf 
was  copied  by  the  Morning  Courier,  with  even  fuller 
and  severer  comment.  Occasionally  upon  the  street 
and  in  his  efforts  to  procure  employment,  he  was 
recognized,  and  aversion,  scorn,  or  rough  dismissal 
followed  instantly. 

For  a  time  he  honestly  tried  to  obtain  the  means 
of  livelihood,  but  this  became  more  and  more  diffi 
cult.  People  of  whom  he  asked  employment  natu 
rally  inquired  his  name,  and  he  was  fairly  learning 
to  hate  it  from  witnessing  the  malign  changes  in 
aspect  and  manner-  which  its  utterance  invariably 
produced.  The  public  had  been  generally  warned 
against  him,  and  to  the  natural  distrust  inspired  by 
his  first  crime  was  added  a  virtuous  indignation  at 
the  supposed  low  trickery  in  his  dealing  with  the 
magnanimous  Mr.  Shrumpf,  "  the  poor  but  kind- 
hearted  German."  Occasionally,  that  he  might  se 
cure  a  day's  work  in  full  or  in  part,  he  was  led  to 
suppress  his  name  and  give  an  alias. 

He  felt  as  if  he  had  been  caught  in  a  swift  black 
torrent  that  was  sweeping  him  down  in  spite  of  all 
that  he  could  do  ;  he  also  felt  that  the  black  tide 
would  eventually  plunge  him  into  an  abyss  into 


A  PAPER  PONIARD.  26 1 

which  he  dared  not  look.  He  struggled  hard  to  re 
gain  a  footing,  and  clutched  almost  desperately  at 
every  thing  that  might  impede  or  stay  his  swift  de 
scent;  but  seemingly  in  vain. 

His  mental  distress  was  such  that  he  was  unable 
to  write,  even  with  the  aid  of  stimulants  ;  and  he 
also  felt  that  it  was  useless  to  attempt  any  thing  fur 
ther  until  he  heard  from  the  manuscripts  already  in 
editorial  hands.  But  the  ominous  silence  in  regard 
to  them  remained  unbroken.  As  a  result,  he  began 
to  give  way  to  moods  of  the  deepest  gloom  and  de 
spondency,  which  alternated  with  wild  and  reckless 
impulses. 

He  was  growing  intensely  bitter  toward  himself 
and  all  mankind.  Even  the  image  of  his  kind 
friend,  Mrs.  Arnot,  began  to  merge  itself  merely 
into  that  of  the  wife  of  the  man  who  had  dealt  him 
a  blow  from  which  he  began  to  fear  he  would  never 
recover.  He  was  too  morbid  to  be  just  to  any  one, 
even  himself,  and  he  felt  that  she  had  deserted  and 
turned  against  him  also,  forgetting  that  he  had  given 
her  no  clue  to  his  present  place  of  abode,  and  had 
sent  a  message  indicating  that  he  would  regard  any 
effort  to  discover  him  as  officious  and  intrusive.  He 
quite  honestly  believed  that  by  this  time  she  had 
come  to  share  in  the  general  contempt  and  hostility 
which  is  ever  cherished  toward  those  whom  society 
regards  as  not  only  depraved  and  vile,  but  also  dan 
gerous  to  its  peace.  It  seemed  as  if  both  she  and 
Laura  had  receded  from  him  to  an  immeasurable 
distance,  and  he  could  not  think  of  either  without 
almost  gnashing  his  teeth  in  rage  at  himself,  and  at 


262    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

what  he  regarded  as  his  perverse  and  cruel  fate. 
At  times  he  would  vainly  endeavor  to  banish  their 
images  from  his  mind,  but  more  often  would  indulge 
in  wild  and  impossible  visions  of  coming  back  to 
them  in  a  dazzling  halo  of  literary  glory,  and  of 
overwhelming  them  with  humiliation  that  they  were 
so  slow  to  recognize  the  genius  which  smoldered  for 
weeks  under  their  very  eyes. 

But  his  dreams  were  in  truth  "  baseless  fabrics," 
for  at  last  there  came  a  letter  addressed  to  "  E.  H.," 
with  the  name  of  a  popular  literary  paper  printed 
upon  it.  He  clutched  it  with  a  hand  that  shook  in 
his  eagerness,  and  walked  half  a  mile  before  rinding 
a  nook  sufficiently  secluded  in  which  to  open  the 
fateful  missive.  There  were  moments  as  he  has 
tened  through  the  streets  when  the  crumpled  letter 
was  like  a  live  coal  in  his  hand  ;  again  it  seemed 
throbbing  with  life,  and  he  held  it  tighter,  as  though 
it  might  escape.  With  a  chill  at  heart  he  also  ad 
mitted  that  this  bit  of  paper  might  be. a  poniard 
that  would  stab  his  hope  and  so  destroy  him. 

He  eventually  entered  a  half-finished  dwelling, 
which  some  one  had  commenced  to  build  but  was 
not  able  to  finish.  It  was  a  wretched,  prosaic  place, 
that  apparently  had  lost  its  value  even  to  the  owner, 
and  had  become  to  the  public  at  large  only  an  un 
sightly  blot  upon  the  street.  There  was  no  danger 
of  his  being  disturbed  here,  for  the  walls  were  not 
sufficiently  advanced  to  have  ears,  and  even  a  mod 
ern  ghost  would  scorn  to  haunt  a  place  whose  stains 
were  not  those  of  age,  and  whose  crumbling  ruins 
resulted  only  from  superficial  and  half-finished  work. 


A  PAPER  PONIARD.  263 

Indeed,  the  prematurely  old  and  abortive-house  had 
its  best  counterpart  in  the  young  man  himself,  who 
stole  into  one  of  its  small,  unplastered  rooms  with 
many  a  wary  glance,  as  though  it  were  a  treasure- 
vault  which  he  was  bent  on  plundering. 

Feeling  at  last  secure  from  observation,  he  trem 
blingly  opened  the  letter,  which  he  hoped  contained 
the  first  installment  of  wealth  and  fame.  It  was, 
indeed,  from  the  editor  of  the  periodical,  and,  re 
membering  the  avalanche  of  poetry  and  prose  from 
beneath  which  this  unfortunate  class  must  daily 
struggle  into  life  and  being,  it  was  unusually  kind 
and  full ;  but  to  Haldane  it  was  cruel  as  death — a 
Spartan  short-swo/d,  only  long  enough,  to  pierce  his 
heart.  It  was  to  the  following  effect : 

E.  H. — DEAR  SIR: — It  would  be  easier  to  throw  your  communica 
tion  into  the  waste-basket  than  thus  to  reply  ;  and  such,  I  may  add, 
is  the  usual  fate  .of  productions  like  yours.  But  something  in  your 
letter  accompanying  the  MSS.  caught  my  attention,  and  induced  me 
to  give  you  a  little  good  advice,  which  I  fear  you  will  not  take,  how 
ever.  You  are  evidently  a  young  and  inexperienced  man,  and  I 
gather  from  your  letter  that  you  are  in  trouble  of  some  nature,  and, 
also,  that  you  are  building  hopes,  if  not  actually  depending,  upon 
the  crude  labors  of  your  pen.  Let  me  tell  you  frankly  at  once  that 
literature  is  not  your  forte.  If  you  have  sent  literary  work  to  other 
parties  like  that  inclosed  to  me  you  will  never  hear  from  it  again. 
In  the  first  place,  you  do  not  write  correctly  ;  in  the  second,  you  have 
nothing  to  say.  We  cannot  afford  to  print  words  merely — much  less 
pay  for  them.  What  is  worse,  many  of  your  sentences  are  so  unna 
tural  and  turgid  as  to  suggest  that  you  sought  in  stimulants  a  remedy 
for  paucity  of  ideas.  Take  friendly  advice.  Attempt  something 
that  you  are  capable  of  doing,  and  build  your  hopes  on  that.  Any 
honest  work — even  sawing  wood — well  done,  is  better  than  childish 
efforts  to  perform  what,  to  us,  is  impossible.  Before  you  can  do  any 
thing  in  the  literary  world  it  is  evident  that  years  of  culture  and  care 
ful  reading  would  be  necessary.  But,  as  I  have  before  said,  your 


264    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

talents  do  not  seem  to  lie  in  this  direction.  Life  is  too  precious  to 
be  wasted  in  vain  endeavor;  and  that  reminds  me  that  I  have  spent 
several  moments,  and  from  the  kindliest  motives,  in  stating  to  you 
facts  which  you  may  regard  as  insults.  But  were  the  circumstances 
the  same  I  would  give  my  own  son  the  same  advice.  Do  not  be  dis 
couraged  ;  there  is  plenty  of  other  work  equally  good  and  useful  as 
that  for  which  you  seem  unfitted. 

Faithfully  yours, 


A  SORRY  KNIGHT.  265 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

A  SORRY   KNIGHT. 

r  I  ^HE  writer  has  known  men  to  receive  mortal 
X  wounds  in  battle,  of  which,  at  the  moment,  they 
were  scarcely  conscious.  The  mind,  in  times  of 
grand  excitement,  has  often  risen  so  far  superior  to 
the  material  body  that  only  by  trickling  blood  or 
faintness  have  persons  become  aware  of  their  inju 
ries.  But  "a  wounded  spirit,  who  can  bear?"  and 
when  did  hope,  self-love,  or  pride,  ever  receive  home- 
thrusts  unconsciously  ? 

The  well-meaning  letter,  written  by  the  kindly 
editor,  and  full  of  wholesome  advice,  cut  like  a  sur 
geon's  knife  in  some  desperate  case  when  it  is  a 
question  whether  the  patient  can  endure  the  heroic 
treatment  necessary.  Haldane's  stilted  and  unnatu 
ral  tales  had  been  projected  into  being  by  such  fiery 
and  violent  means  that  they  might  almost  be  termed 
volcanic  in  their  origin  ;  but  the  fused  mass  resulting 
having  cooled  off,  resembled  scoria  or  cinders  rather 
than  fine  metal  shaped  into  artistic  forms.  Al 
though  his  manuscripts  could  have  been  sold  in  the 
world's  market  only  by  the  pound,  he  had  believed, 
or,  at  least,  strongly  hoped  otherwise,  as  have  so 
many  others,  who,  with  beating  hearts,  have  sent 
12 


266     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

the  children  of  their  brains  out  to  seek  their  fortunes 
with  no  better  results. 

The  unbroken  and  ominous  silence  or  the  re 
turned  manuscript  is  a  severe  disappointment  even 
to  those  who  from  safe  and  happy  homes  have 
sought  to  gain  the  public  ear,  and  whose  impelling 
motive  toward  literature  is  scarcely  more  than  an 
impulse  of  vanity.  But  to  Haldane  the  letter, 
which  in  giving  the  editorial  estimate  of  one  of  his 
stories  revealed  the  fate  of  all  the  others,  brought  far 
more  than  a  mere  disappointment.  It  brought  de 
spair  and  the  recklessness  and  demoralization  which 
inevitably  follow. .  The  public  regarded  him  as  a 
depraved,  commonplace  vagabond,  eminent  only  in 
his  capacity  for  evil  and  meanness,  and  he  now  in 
clined  strongly  to  the  same  view  of  himself.  True 
self-respect  he  had  never  possessed,  but  his  best 
substitute,  pride,  at  last  gave  way.  He  felt  that  he 
was  defeated  for  life,  and  the  best  that  life  could 
now  offer  was  a  brief  career  of  sensual  pleasure. 
Mrs.  Arnot  and  Laura  Romeyn  were  as  far  removed 
from  him  as  the  stars  ;  it  was  torment  to  think  of 
them,  and  he  would  blot  out  their  memory  and  the 
memory  of  all  that  he  had  hoped-for,  with  wine  and 
excitement.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  world  said 
to  him  with  united  voice,  "  Go  to  the  devil,"  and 
then  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  do  otherwise. 

Since  he  was  defeated, — since  all  his  proud  assur 
ances  to  his  mother  that  he  would,  alone  and  unaid 
ed,  regain  his  lost  good  name  and  position  in  society, 
had  proved  but  empty  boasts, — he  would  no  longer 
hide  the  fact  from  her,  not  in  the  hope  of  being 


A  SOXXY  KNIGHT.  267 

received  at  home  as  a  repentant  prodigal  (even  the 
thought  of  such  a  course  was  unendurable),  but  with 
the  purpose  of  obtaining  from  her  the  means  of  en 
tering  upon  a  life  of  vicious  pleasure. 

The  young  man's  father — impelled  both  by  his 
strong  attachment  for  his  wife,  and  also  by  the  pru 
dent  forethought  with  which  men  seek  to  protect 
and  provide  for  those  they  love,  long  after  they  have 
passed  away  from  earthly  life — had  left  his  property 
wholly  in  trust  to  his  wife,  associating  with  her  one 
or  two  other  chosen  counselors.  As  long  as  she 
lived  and  remained  unmarried  she  controlled  it,  the 
husband  trusting  to  her  affection  for  her  children  to 
make  suitable  provision  for  them.  He  had  seen  with 
prophetic  anxiety  the  mother's  fond  indulgence  of 
their  only  son,  and  the  practical  man  dreaded  the  con 
sequences.  He  therefore  communicated  to  her  ver 
bally,  and  also  embodied  in  his  will,  his  wish  that  his 
son  should  have  no  control  over  the  principal  of 
such  portion  of  the  estate  as  would  eventually  fall 
to  him  until  he  had  established  a  character  that  se 
cured  the  confidence  of  all  good  men,  and  satisfied 
the  judgment  of  the  cautious  co-executors.  The 
provisions  of  the  will  still  further  required  that, 
should  the  young  man  prove  erratic  and  vicious,  his 
income  should  be  limited  in  such  ways  as  would,  as 
far  as  possible,  curb  excess. 

Haldane  knew  all  this,  and  in  the  days  of  his 
confidence  in  himself  and  his  brilliant  future  had 
often  smiled  at  these  "  absurd  restrictions."  The 
idea  that  there  would  ever  be  any  reason  for  their 
enforcement  was  preposterous,  and  the  thought  of 


268     KNIGHT  OP   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

his  fond,  weak  mother  refusing  any  thing  that  he 
demanded,  was  still  further  out  of  the  range  of  pos 
sibility. 

The  wretched  youth  now  sank  into  a  far  lower 
depth  than  he  had  ever  yet  reached.  He  deliber 
ately  resolved  to  take  advantage  of  that  mother's 
weakness,  and  for  the  basest  ends.  While  under  the 
influence  of  hope  and  pride,  he  had  resolved  to  re 
ceive  no  assistance  even  from  her,  so  that  he  might 
wholly  claim  the  credit  of  regaining  all  that  he  had 
lost ;  but  now,  in  the  recklessness  of  despair,  he 
proposed  not  only  to  ask  for  all  the  money  he  could 
obtain,  but,  if  necessary,  extort  it  by  any  means  in 
his  power. 

He  and  the  forlorn  place  of  his  bitter  revery  grew 
more  and  more  into  harmony.  The  small,  half-fin 
ished  apartment  of  the  ruinous  new  house  became 
more  truly  the  counterpart  of  his  life.  It  was  bare  ; 
it  was  unsightly  from  the  debris  of  its  own  discolored 
and  crumbling  walls.  The  possibility  of  sweet  home 
scenes  had  passed  from  it,  and  it  had  become  a  place 
in  which  an  orgy  might  be  hidden,  or  some  revolt 
ing  crime  committed.  To  precisely  this  use  Hal- 
dane  put  his  temporary  refuge  before  leaving  it ; 
for  excesses  and  evil  deeds  that  the  mind  has  de 
liberately  resolved  upon  are  virtually  accomplished 
facts  as  far  as  the  wrong-doer  is  concerned.  Before 
leaving  his  dingy  hiding-place  Haldane  had  in  the 
depths  of  his  soul  been  guilty  of  drunkenness  and 
all  kinds  of  excess.  He  also  purposed  unutterable 
baseness  toward  the  widowed  mother  whom,  by 
every  principle  of  true  manhood,  he  was  bound  to 


A  SORRY- KNIGHT.  269 

cherish  and  shield ;  and  he  had  in  volition  more 
certainly  committed  the  act  of  self-destruction  than 
does  the  poor  wretch  who,  under  some  mad,  half- 
insane  impulse,  makes  permanent  by  suicide  the 
evils  a  little  fortitude  and  patient  effort  might  have 
remedied.  There  is  no  self-murder  so  hopeless  and 
wicked  as  that  of  deliberate  sin  against  one's  own 
body  and  soul. 

No  man  becomes  a  saint  or  villain  in  an  hour  or 
by  a  single  step  ;  but  there  are  times  when  evil  ten 
dencies  combine  with  adverse  influences  and  circum 
stances  to  produce  sudden  and  seemingly  fatal  havoc 
in  character.  As  the  world  goes,  Haldane  was  a 
well-meaning  youth,  although  cursed  with  evil  hab 
its  and  tendencies,  when  he  entered  the  isolated, 
half-finished  house.  He  was  bad  and  devilish  when 
he  came  out  upon  the  street  again,  and  walked  reck 
lessly  toward  the  city,  caring  not  who  saw  or  recog 
nized  him.  In  the  depths  of  his  heart  he  had  become 
an  enemy  to  society,  and,  so  far  from  hoping  to 
gain  its  respect  and  good-will,  he  defied  and  intend 
ed  to  outrage  it  to  the  end  of  life. 

A  man  in  such  a  mood  gravitates  with  almost 
certainty  toward  the  liquor-saloon,  and  Haldane  na 
turally  commenced  drinking  at  the  various  dens 
whose  doors  stood  alluringly  open.  His  slender 
purse  did  not  give  him  the  choice  of  high-priced 
wines,  and  to  secure  the  mad  excitement  and  obliv 
ion  he  craved,  only  fiery  compounds  were  ordered — 
such  as  might  have  been  distilled  in  the  infernal  re- 
gions  to  accomplish  infernal  results ;  and  they  soon 
began  to  possess  him  like  a  legion  of  evil  spirits. 


270    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

If  Shakespeare  characterized  the  "  invisible  spirit 
of  wine  "  as  a  "  devil "  in  the  unsophisticated  days 
of  old,  when  wine  was  wine,  and  not  a  hell-broth 
concocted  of  poisonous  drugs,  what  unspeakable 
fiends  must  lurk  in  the  grimy  bottles  whose  con 
tents,  analyzed  and  explained,  would  appall  some,  at 
least,  of  the  stolid  and  stony-hearted  venders ! 

Haldane  soon  felt  himself  capable  of  any  wicked 
ness,  any  crime.  He  became  a  human  volcano,  that 
might  at  any  moment  pass  into  a  violent  and  mur 
derous  action,  regardless  of  consequences — indeed, 
as  utterly  incapable  of  foreseeing  and  realizing  them 
as  the  mountain  that  belches  destruction  on  vine 
yard  and  village. 

We  regard  ourselves  as  a  civilized  and  Christian 
people,  and  yet  we  tolerate  on  every  corner  places 
where  men  are  transformed  into  incarnate  devils, 
and  sent  forth  to  run  amuck  in  our  streets,  and  out 
rage  the  helpless  women  and  children  in  their  own 
homes.  The  naked  inhabitants  of  Dahomey  could 
do  no  worse  inthis  direction. 

But  Haldane  was  not  destined  to  end  his  orgy  in 
the  lurid  glare  of  a  tragedy,  for,  as  the  sun  declined, 
the  miserable  day  was  brought  to  a  wretched  and 
fitting  close.  Unconsciously  he  had  strayed  to  the 
saloon  on  whose  low  step  Messrs.  Van  Wink  and 
Ketcham  had  left  him  on  the  memorable  night  from 
which  he  dated  his  downfall.  Of  course  he  did  not 
recognize  the  place,  but  there  was  one  within  that 
associated  him  inseparably  with  it,  and  also  with 
misfortunes  of  his  own.  As  Haldane  leaned  unstead- 


A  SORRY  KNIGHT.  271 

ily  against  the  bar  a  seedy-looking  man  glared  at 
him  a  moment,  and  then  stepped  to  his  side,  say 
ing, 

"  I'll  take  a  few  dhrinks  wid  ye.  Faix!  after  all 
the  trouble  ye've  been  to  me  ye  oughter  kape  me  in 
dhrink  the  year." 

Turning  to  the  speaker,  the  young  man  recognized 
Pat  M'Cabe,  whom  he  also  associated  with  his  evil 
fortunes,  and  toward  whom  he  now  felt  a  strong 
vindictiveness,  the  sudden  and  unreasoning  anger 
of  intoxication.  In  reply,  therefore,  he  threw  the 
contents  of  his  glass  into  Pat's  face,  saying  with  a 
curse, 

"  That  is  the  way  I  drink  with  such  as  you." 

Instantly  there  was  a  bar-room  brawl  of  the  ordi 
nary  brutal  type,  from  whose  details  we  gladly  es 
cape.  Attracted  by  the  uproar,  a  policeman  was 
soon  on  hand,  and  both  the  combatants  were  ar 
rested  and  marched  off  to  the  nearest  police  station. 
Bruised,  bleeding,  disheveled,  and  with  rent  gar 
ments,  Haldane  again  passed  through  the  streets  as 
a  criminal,  with  the  rabble  hooting  after  him.  But 
now  there  was  no  intolerable  sense  of  shame  as  at 
first.  He  had  become  a  criminal  at  heart ;  he  had 
deliberately  and  consciously  degraded  himself,  and 
his  whole  aspect  had  come  to  be  in  keeping  with  his 
character. 

It  may  be  objected  that  the  transformation  had 
been  too  rapid.  It  had  not  been  rapid.  His  mother 
commenced  preparing  him  for  this  in  the  nursery  by 
her  weak  indulgence.  She  had  sown  the  seeds  of 


272     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

which  his  present  actions  were  the  legitimate  out 
growth.  The  weeds  of  his  evil  nature  had  been  un 
checked  when  little,  and  now  they  were  growing  so 
rank  as  to  overshadow  all. 

Multitudes  go  to  ruin  who  must  trace  their  wrong 
bias  back  to  cultivated  and  even  Christian  homes. 


GOD  SENT  HIS  ANGEL.  273 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

GOD   SENT  HIS  ANGEL. 

THE  mad  excitement  of  anger  and  drunkenness 
was  speedily  followed  by  stupor,  and  the  night 
during  which  Haldane  was  locked  up  in  the  station- 
house  was  a  blank.  The  next  morning  he  was  de 
cidedly  ill  as  the  result  of  his  debauch  ;  for  the  after 
effects  of  the  vile  liquor  he  had  drank  was  such  as  to 
make  any  creature  save  rational  man  shun  it  in  the 
future  with  utter  loathing. 

But  the  officers  of  the  law  had  not  the  slightest 
consideration  for  his  aching  head  and  jarring  nerves. 
He  was  hustled  off  to  the  police  court  with  others, 
and  he  now  seemed  in  harmony  with  the  place  and 
company. 

Pat  M'Cabe  was  a  veteran  in  these  matters,  and 
had  his  witnesses  ready,  who  swore  to  the  truth,  and 
any  thing  else  calculated  to  assist  Pat,  their  crony, 
out  of  his  scrape.  Unfortunately  for  Haldane,  the 
truth  was  against  him,  and  he  remained  sullen  and 
silent,  making  no  defense.  The  natural  result,  there 
fore,  of  the  brief  hearing,  was  his  committal  to  the 
common  jail  for  ten  days,  and  the  liberation  of  Pat, 
with  a  severe  reprimand. 

Thus,  after  the  lapse  of  a  few  brief  weeks,  Hal- 

12* 


274    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

dane  found  himself  in  the  same  cell  whence  he  had 
gone  out  promising  and  expecting  to  accomplish  so 
much.  He  could  not  help  recalling  his  proud  words 
to  his  mother  and  Mrs.  Arnot  as  he  looked  around 
the  bare  walls,  and  he  was  sufficiently  himself  again 
to  realize  partially  how  complete  and  disgraceful 
had  been  his  defeat.  But  such  was  his  mood  that  it 
could  find  no  better  expression  than  a  malediction 
upon  himself  and  the  world  in  general.  Then, 
throwing  himself  upon  his  rude  and  narrow  couch, 
he  again  resigned  himself  to  his  stupor,  from  which 
he  had  been  aroused  to  receive  his  sentence. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  he  awoke,  and 
his  cell  was  already  growing  dusky  with  the  coming 
night.  It  was  a  place  congenial  to  shadows,  and 
they  came  early  and  lingered  till  the  sun  was  high. 

But  as  Haldane  slowly  regained  full  consciousness, 
and  recalled  all  that  had  transpired,  he  felt  himself 
to  be  under  a  deeper  shadow  than  the  night  could 
cast.  The  world  condemned  him,  and  he  deserved 
condemnation  ;  but  he  was  also  deserving  of  pity. 
Scarcely  more  than  twenty,  he  had  seemingly  spoiled 
his  life  utterly.  It  was  torment  to  remember  the 
past,  and  the  future  was  still  darker  ;  for  his  out 
raged  physical  nature  so  bitterly  resented  its  wrongs 
by  racking  pains  that  it  now  seemed  to  him  that 
even  a  brief  career  of  sensual  gratification  was  im 
possible,  or  so  counterbalanced  with  suffering  as  to 
be  revolting.  Though  scarcely  more  than  across  the 
threshold  of  life,  existence  had  become  an  unmiti 
gated  evil ;  and  had  he  been  brought  up  in  an  atmo 
sphere  of  flippant  skepticism  he  would  have  flung 


GOD  SENT  HIS  ANGEL.  275 

it  away  as  he  would  a  handful  of  nettles  ;  but  his 
childish  memory  had  been  made  familiar  with  that 
ancient  Book  whose  truths,  like  anchors,  enable 
many  a  soul  on  the  verge  of  wreck  to  outride  the 
storm.  He  was  too  well  acquainted  with  its  teach 
ings  to  entertain  for  a  moment  the  shallow  theory 
that  a  man  can  escape  the  consequences  of  folly, 
villainy,  and  unutterable  baseness  by  merely  ceasing 
to  breathe. 

He  could  not  eat  the  coarse  food  brought  to  him 
for  supper,  and  his  only  craving  was  for  something 
to  quench  his  feverish  thirst.  His  long  lethargy 
was  followed  by  corresponding  sleeplessness  and  pre 
ternatural  activity  of  brain.  That  night  became  to 
him  like  the  day  of  judgment ;  for  it  seemed  as  if 
his  memory  would  recall  every  thing  he  had  ever 
done  or  said,  and  place  all  before  him  in  the  most 
dreary  and  discouraging  aspect. 

He  saw  his  beautiful  and  aristocratic  home,  which 
he  had  forfeited  so  completely  that  the  prison  would 
be  more  endurable  than  the  forced  and  painful  toler 
ation  of  his  presence,  which  was  the  best  he  could 
hope  for  from  his  mother  and  sisters ;  and  he  felt 
that  he  would  much  rather  stay  where  he  was  for 
life  than  again  meet  old  neighbors  and  companions. 
But  he  now  saw  how,  with  that  home  and  his  fa 
ther's  honored  name  as  his  vantage  ground,  he  might 
have  made  himself  rich  and  honored. 

The  misspent  days  and  years  of  the  past  became 
like  so  many  reproachful  ghosts,  and  he  realized 
that  he  had  idled  away  the  precious  seed-time  of  his 
life,  or,  rather,  had  been  busy  sowing  thorns  and  net- 


276     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

ties,  that  had  grown  all  too  quickly  and  rankly.  Thou 
sands  had  been  spent  on  his  education  ;  and  yet  he  was 
oppressed  with  a  sense  of  his  ignorance  and  helpless 
ness.  Rude  contact  with  the  world  had  thoroughly 
banished  self-conceit,  and  he  saw  that  his  mind  was 
undisciplined  and  his  knowledge  so  superficial  and 
fragmentary  as  to  be  almost  useless.  The  editor  of 
the  paper  whose  columus  he  had  hoped  to  illumine 
told  him  that  he  could  not  even  write  correctly. 

While  in  bitterness  of  soul  he  cursed  himself  for 
his  wasted  life,  he  knew  that  he  was  not  wholly  to 
blame.  Indeed,  in  accordance  with  a  trait  as  old  as 
fallen  man,  he  sought  to  lay  the  blame  on  another. 
He  saw  that  his  own  folly  had  ever  found  an  ally  in 
his  mother's  indulgence,  and  that,  instead  of  holding 
him  with  a  firm,  yet  gentle  hand  to  his  tasks  and 
duties,  she  had  been  the  first  to  excuse  him  from 
them  and  to  palliate  his  faults.  Instead  of  recalling 
her  fond  and  blind  idolatry  with  tenderness,  he  felt 
like  one  who  had  been  treacherously  poisoned  with 
a  wine  that  was  sweet  while  it  rested  on  the  palate, 
but  whose  after-taste  is  vile,  and  whose  final  effect  is 
death. 

There  is  no  memory  that  we  cherish  so  sacredly 
and  tenderly  as  that  of  our  parents'  kind  and  patient 
love.  It  often  softens  the  heart  of  the  hardened 
man  and  abandoned  woman  when  all  other  influences 
are  powerless.  But  when  love  degenerates  into 
idolatry  and  indulgence,  and  those  to  whom  the 
child  is  given  as  a  sacred  trust  permit  it  to  grow 
awry,  and  develop  into  moral  deformity,  men  and 
women,  as  did  Haldane,  may  breathe  curses  on  the 


GOD  SENT  HIS  ANGEL.  277 

blindness  and  weakness  that  was  the  primal  cause 
of  their  life-failure.  Throughout  that  long  and  horri 
ble  night  he  felt  only  resentment  toward  his  mother, 
and  cherished  no  better  purpose  toward  her  than  was 
embodied  in  his  plan  to  wring  from  her,  even  by 
methods  that  savored  of  black-mail,  the  means  of 
living  a  dissipated  life  in  some  city  where  he  was  un 
known,  and  could  lose  himself  in  the  multitude. 

But  the  ten  days  of  enforced  seclusion  and  solitude 
that  must  intervene  seemed  like  an  eternity.  With 
a  shudder  he  thought  of  the  real  eternity,  beyond, 
when  the  power  to  excite  or  stupefy  his  lower  nature 
would  be  gone  forever.  That  shadow  was  so  dark 
and  cold  that  it  seemed  to  chill  his  very  soul,  and  by 
a  resolute  effort  of  will  he  compelled  his  mind  to 
dwell  only  on  the  immediate  future  and  the  past. 

Day  at  last  dawned  slowly  and  dimly  in  his  cell, 
and  found  him  either  pacing  up  and  down  like  some 
wild  creature  in  its  cage,  turning  so  often  by  reason  of 
the  limited  space  as  to  be  almost  dizzy,  or  else  sitting 
on  his  couch  with  his  haggard  face  buried  in  his  hands. 

After  fighting  all  night  against  the  impulse  to 
think  about  Mrs.  Arnot  and  her  niece,  he  at  last 
gave  up  the  struggle,  and  permitted  his  mind  to  re 
vert  to  them.  Such  thoughts  were  only  pain  now, 
and  yet  for  some  reason 'it  seemed  as  if  his  mind 
were  drawn  irresistibly  toward  them.  He  felt  that 
his  deep  regret  was  as  useless  and  unavailing  as  the 
November  wind  that  sweeps  back  and  forth  the 
withered  and  fallen  leaves.  His  whole  frame  would 
at  times  tremble  with  gusts  of  remorseful  passion, 
and  again  he  would  sigh  long  and  drearily. 


278     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

He  now  realized  what  a  priceless  opportunity  he 
had  lost.  It  was  once  his  privilege  to  enter  Mrs. 
Arnot.'s  beautiful  home  assured  of  welcome.  She 
had  been  deeply  interested  in  him  for  his  mother's 
sake,  and  might  have  become  so  for  his  own.  He 
had  been  privileged  to  meet  Laura  Romeyn  as  her 
equal,  at  least  in  social  estimation,  and  he  might 
have  made  himself  worthy  of  her  esteem,  and  pos 
sibly  of  her  affection.  He  saw  that  he  had  foolishly 
clamored,  like  a  spoiled  child,  for  that  which  he 
could  only  hope  to  possess  by  patient  waiting  and 
manly  devotion ;  and  now,  with  a  regret  that  was 
like  a  serpent's  tooth,  he  felt  that  such  devotion 
might  have  been  rewarded. 

But  a  few  months  ago,  whose  life  had  been  more 
rich  with  promise  than  his,  or  to  whom  had  been 
given  a  better  vantage-ground  ?  And  yet  he  had 
already  found  the  lowest  earthly  perdition  possible, 
and  had  lost  hope  of  any  thing  better. 

In  his  impotent  rage  and  despair  he  fairly  gnashed 
his  teeth  and  cursed  hirnself,  his  fate,  and  those  who 
had  led  to  his  evil  fortunes.  Then,  by  a  natural 
revulsion  of  feeling,  he  sobbed  like  a  child  that  has 
lost  its  way  and  can  discover  no  returning  path,  and 
whose  heart  the  darkness  of  the  fast-approaching 
night  fills  with  unutterable  dread. 

He  was  a  criminal — in  his  despair  he  never  hoped 
to  be  any  thing  else — but  he  was  not  a  hardened 
criminal,  and  was  still  capable  of  wishing  to  be  dif 
ferent.  In  the  memory  of  his  bitter  experience  a 
pure  and  honorable  life  now  appeared  as  beautiful 
as  it  was  impossible.  He  had  no  expectation,  how- 


GOD  SENT  HIS  ANGEL.  279 

ever,  of  ever  living  such  a  life,  for  pride,  the  corner 
stone  of  his  character,  had  given  way,  and  he  was 
too  greatly  discouraged  at  the  time  to  purpose  reform 
even  in  the  future.  Without  the  spur  and  incentive 
of  hope  we  become  perfectly  helpless  in  evil ;  there 
fore  all  doctrines  and  philosophies  which  tend  to 
quench  or  limit  hope,  or  which  are  bounded  by  the 
narrow  horizon  of  time  and  earth,  are,  in  certain 
emergencies,  but  dead  weights,  dragging  down  the 
soul. 

At  last,  from  sheer  exhaustion,  he  threw  himself 
on  his  couch,  and  fell  into  a  troubled  sleep,  filled 
with  broken  and  distorted  visions  of  the  scenes  that 
had  occupied  his  waking  hours.  But  he  gradually 
became  quieter,  and  it  appeared  in  his  dream  as  if 
he  saw  a  faint  dawning  in  the  east  which  grew 
brighter  until  a  distinct  ray  of  light  streamed  from 
an  infinite  distance  to  himself.  Along  this  shining 
pathway  an  angel  seemed  approaching  him.  The 
vision  grew  so  distinct  and  real  that  he  started  up 
and  saw  Mrs.  Arnot  sitting  in  the  doorway,  quietly 
watching  him.  Confused  and  oblivious  of  the  past, 
he  stepped  forward  to  speak  to  her  with  the  natural 
instinct  of  a  gentleman  ;  then  the  memory  of  all  that 
had  occurred  rolled  before  him  like  a  black  torrent, 
and  he  shrank  back  to  his  couch  and  buried  his  face 
in  his  hands.  But  when  Mrs.  Arnot  came  and  placed 
her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  saying  gently,  but  very 
gravely,  "  Egbert,  since  you  would  not  come  to  me 
I  have  come  to  you,"  he  felt  that  his  vision  was  still 
true,  and  that  God  had  sent  his  angel. 


28o    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

FACING  THE   CONSEQUENCES. 

A  YOUNG  man  of  Haldane's  age  is  capable  of 
despairing  thoughts,  and  even  of  desperate 
moods,  of  quite  extended  continuance  ;  but  it  usually 
requires  a  long  life-time  of  disaster  and  sin  to  bury 
hope  so  deep  that  the  stone  of  its  sepulcher  is  not 
rolled  away  as  the  morning  dawns.  Haldane  had 
thought  that  his  hope  was  dead  ;  but  Mrs.  Arnot's 
presence,  combined  with  her  manner,  soon  made  it 
clear,  even  to  himself,  that  it  was  not ;  and  yet  it 
was  but  a  weak  and  trembling  hope,  scarcely  assured 
of  its  right  to  exist,  that  revived  at  her  touch  and 
voice.  His  heart  both  clung  and  shrank  from  the 
pure,  good  woman  who  stood  beside  him. 

He  trembled,  and  his  breast  heaved  convulsively 
for  a  few  moments,  and  she  quietly  waited  until  he 
should  grow  more  calm,  only  stroking  his  bowed 
head  once  or  twice  with  a  slight  and  reassuring  ca 
ress.  At  last  he  asked  in  a  low,  hoarse  voice, 

"  Do  you  know  why  I  am  here?" 

"  Yes,  Egbert." 

"  And  yet  you  have  come  in  kindness — in  mercy, 
rather." 

"  I  have  come  because  I  am  deeply  interested  in 
you." 


FACING  THE,  CONSEQUENCES.  28l 

"  I  am  not  worthy — I  am  not  fit  for  you  to  touch." 

"  I  am  glad  you  feel  so." 

"  Then  why  do  you  come?" 

"  Because  I  wish  to  help  you  to  become  worthy." 

"  That's  impossible.     It's  too  late." 

"  Perhaps  it  is.  That  is  a  question  for  you  alone 
to  decide ;  but  I  wish  you  to  think  well  before  you 
do  decide  it." 

"  Pardon  me,  Mrs.  Arnot,"  he  said  emphatically, 
raising  his  head,  and  dashing  away  bitter  tears ;  "  the 
world  has  decided  that  question  for  me,  and  all  have 
said  in  one  harsh,  united  voice,  *  You  shall  not  rise.' 
It  has  ground  me  under  its  heel  as  vindictively  as  if 
I  were  a  viper.  You  are  so  unlike  the  world  that 
you  don't  know  it.  It  has  given  me  no  chance  what 
ever." 

"  Egbert,  what  have  you  to  do  with  the  world  ?  " 

"  God  knows  I  wanted  to  recover  what  I  had  lost," 
he  continued  in  the  same  rapid  tone.  "  God  knows 
I  left  this  cell  weeks  since  with  the  honest  purpose 
of  working  my  way  up  to  a  position  that  would  en 
title  me  to  your  respect,  and  change  my  mother's 
shame  into  pride.  But  I  found  a  mad-dog  cry  raised 
against  me.  And  this  professedly  Christian  town 
has  fairly  hunted  me  back  to  this  prison." 

Mrs.  Arnot  sighed  deeply,  but  after  a  moment 
said,  "  I  do  not  excuse  the  Christian  town,  neither 
can  I  excuse  you." 

"  You  too,  then,  blame  me,  and  side  against  me." 

"  No,  Egbert,  I  side  with  you,  and  yet  I  blame 
you  deeply;  but  I  pity  you  more." 

He  rose,  and  paced  the  cell  with  his  old,  restless 


282     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

steps.  "It's  no  use,"  he  said;  "  the  world  says, 
'  Go  to  the  devil,'  and  gives  me  no  chance  to  do 
otherwise." 

"  Do  you  regard  the  world — whatever  you  /nay 
mean  by  the  phrase — as  your  friend  ?  " 

"  Friend !  "  he  repeated,  with  bitter  emphasis. 

"Why,  then,  do  you  take  its  advice?  I  did  not 
come  here  to  tell  you  to  go  to  perdition." 

"  But  if  the  world  sets  its  face  against  me  like  a 
flint,  what  is  there  for  me  to  do  but  to  remain  in 
prison  or  hide  in  a  desert,  unless  I  do  what  I  had 
purposed,  defy  it  and  strike  back,  though  it  be  only 
as  a  worm  that  tries  to  sting  the  foot  that  crushes  it." 

"  Egbert,  if  you  should  die,  the  world  would  for 
get  that  you  had  ever  existed,  in  a  few  days." 

"  Certainly.  It  would  merely  g.ive  me  a  passing 
thought  as  of  a  nuisance  that  had  been  abated." 

"  Well,  then,  would  it  not  be  wise  to  forget  the 
world  for  a  little  while?  You  are  shut  away  from  it 
for  the  present,  and  it  cannot  molest  you.  In  the 
meantime  you  can  settle  some  very  important  per 
sonal  questions.  The  world  has  power  over  your 
fate  only  as  you  give  it  power.  You  need  not  lie 
like  a  helpless  worm  in  its  path,  waiting  to  be  crush 
ed.  Get  up  like  a  man,  and  take  care  of  yourself. 
The  world  may  let  you  starve,  but  it  cannot  prevent 
you  from  becoming  good  and  true  and  manly ;  if  you 
do  become  so,  however,  rest  assured  the  world  will 
eventually  find  a  place  for  you,  and,  perhaps,  an 
honored  place.  But  be  that  as  it  may,  a  good  Chris 
tian  man  is  sustained  by  something  far  more  sub 
stantial  than  the  world's  breath." 


FACING  THE  CONSEQUENCES.  283 

Out  of  respect  for  Mrs.  Arnot,  Haldane  was  silent. 
He  supposed  that  her  proposed  remedy  for  his  des 
perate  troubles  was  that  he  should  "  become  a  Chris 
tian,"  and  to  this  phrase  he  had  learned  to  give  only 
the  most  conventional  meaning. 

"  Becoming  a  Christian,"  in  his  estimation,  was  the 
making  of  certain  professions,  going  through  pecu 
liar  and  abnormal  experiences,  and  joining  a  church, 
the  object  of  all  this  being  to  escape  "  a  wrath  to 
come  "  in  the  indefinite  future.  To  begin  with,  he 
had  not  the  slightest  idea  how  to  set  in  motion  these 
spiritual  evolutions,  had  he  desired  them ;  and  to 
his  intense  and  practical  nature  the  whole  subject 
was  as  unattractive  as  a  library  of  musty  and  scho 
lastic  books.  He  wanted  some  remedy  that  applied 
to  this  world,  and  would  help  him  now.  He  did  not 
associate  Mrs.  Arnot's  action  with  Christian  prin 
ciple,  but  believed  it  to  be  due  to  the  peculiar  and 
natural  kindness  of  her  heart.  Christians  in  general 
had  not  troubled  themselves  about  him,  and,  as  far 
as  he  could  judge,  had  turned  as  coldly  from  him  as 
had  others.  His  mother  had  always  been  regarded 
as  an  eminently  religious  woman,  and  yet  he  knew 
that  she  was  morbidly  sensitive  to  the  world's  opin 
ion  and  society's  verdict. 

From  childhood  he  had  associated  religion  with  nu 
merous  Sunday  restraints  and  the  immaculate  mourn 
ing-dress  which  seemed  to  chiefly  occupy  his  mother's 
thoughts  during  the  hour  preceding  service.  He  had 
no  conception  of  a  faith  that  could  be  to  him  what  the 
Master's  strong  sustaining  hand  was  to  the  disciple 
who  suddenly  found  himself  sinking  in  a  stormy  sea. 


284     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

It  is  not  strange  that  the  distressed  in  body  or 
mind  turn  away  from  a  religion  of  dreary  formalities 
and  vague,  uncomprehended  mental  processes.  In 
stant  and  practical  help  is  what  is  craved  ;  and  just 
such  help  Christ  ever  gave  when  he  came  to  manifest 
God's  will  and  ways  to  men.  By  whose  authority 
do  some  religious  teachers  now  lead  the  suffering 
through  such  a  round-about,  intricate,  or  arid  path 
of  things  to  be  done  and  doctrines  to  be  accepted 
before  bringing  them  to  Christ  ? 

But  when  a  mind  has  become  mystified  with  pre 
conceived  ideas  and  prejudices,  it  is  no  easy  task  to 
reveal  to  them  the  truth,  however  simple.  Mrs.  Ar- 
not  had  come  into  the  light  but  slowly  herself,  and 
she  had  passed  through  too  many  deep  and  prolonged 
spiritual  experiences  to  hope  for  any  immediate  and 
radical  change  in  Haldane.  Indeed,  she  was  in  great 
doubt  whether  he  would  ever  receive  the  faithful 
words  she  proposed  speaking  to  him  ;  and  she  fully 
believed  that  any  thing  he  attempted  in  his  own 
strength  would  again  end  in  disheartening  failure. 

"  Egbert,"  she  said  gently,  but  very  gravely,  "  have 
you  fully  settled  it  in  your  own  mind  that  I  am  your 
friend  and  wish  you  well  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  believe  otherwise,  since  you  are  here, 
and  speaking  to  me  as  you  do  ?" 

"  Well,  I  am  going  to  test  your  faith  in  me  and  my 
kindness.  I  am  going  to  speak  plainly,  and  perhaps 
you  may  even  think  harshly.  You  are  very  sick,  and 
if  I  am  to  be  your  physician  I  must  give  you  some 
sharp,  decisive  treatment.  Will  you  remember  through 
it  all  that  my  only  motive  is  to  make  you  well  ?  " 


FACING  THE  CONSEQUENCES.  285 

"  I  will  try  to." 

"  You  have  kept  away  from  me  a  long  time.  Per 
haps  when  released  from  this  place  you  will  again 
avoid  me,  and  I  may  never  have  another  opportunity 
like  the  present.  Now,  while  you  have  a  chance  to 
think,  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  face  the  consequences 
of  your  present  course.  Within  an  hour  after  pass 
ing  out  of  this  cell  you  will  have  it  in  your  power 
to  trample  on  your  better  nature  and  stupefy  your 
mind.  But  now,  if  you  will,  you  have  a  chance  to 
use  the  powers  God  has  given  you,  and  settle  finally 
on  your  plan  of  life." 

"  I  have  already  trampled  on  my  manhood — what 
is  worse,  I  have  lost  it.  I  haven't  any  courage  or 
strength  left." 

"  That  can  scarcely  be  true  of  one  but  little  more 
than  twenty.  You  are  to  be  here  in  quietness  for 
the  next  ten  days,  I  learn.  It  is  my  intention,  so  far 
as  it  is  in  my  power  to  bring  it  about,  that  you 
deliberately  face  the  consequences  of  your  present 
course  during  this  time.  By  the  consequences  I  do 
not  mean  what  the  world  will  think  of  you,  but,  rather, 
the  personal  results  of  your  action — what  you  must 
suffer  while  you  are  in  the  world,  and  what  you  must 
suffer  when  far  beyond  the  world.  Egbert,  are  you 
pleased  with  yourself?  are  you  satisfied  with  yourself?  " 

"  I  loathe  myself." 

"  You  can  get  away  from  the  world — you  are  away 
from  it  now,  and  soon  you  will  be  away  from  it  finally 
— but  you  can  never  get  away  from  yourself.  Are 
you  willing  to  face  an  eternal  consciousness  of  defeat, 
failure,  and  personal  baseness?" 


286     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

He  shuddered,  but  was  silent. 

"  There  is  no  place  in  God's  pure  heaven  for  the 
drunkard  —  the  morally  loathsome  and  deformed. 
Are  you  willing  to  be  swept  away  among  the  chaff 
and  the  thorns,  and  to  have,  forever,  the  shameful 
and  humiliating  knowledge  that  you  rightfully  belong 
to  the  rubbish  of  the  universe?  Are  you  willing  to 
have  a  sleepless  memory  tell  you  in  every  torturing 
way  possible  what  a  noble,  happy  man  you  might 
have  been,  but  would  not  be  ?  Your  power  to  drown 
memory  and  conscience,  and  stupefy  your  mind,  will 
only  last  a  little  while  at  best.  .  How  are  you  going 
to  endure  the  time  when  you  must  remember  every 
thing  and  think  of  every  thing?  These  are  more 
important  questions  than  what  the  world  thinks  of 
you." 

"  Have  you  no  pity?  "  he  groaned. 

"Yes,  my  heart  overflows  with  pity.  Is  it  not 
kindness  to  tell  you  whither  your  path  is  leading  ? 
If  I  had  the  power  I  would  lay  hold  of  you,  and  force 
you  to  come  with  me  into  the  path  of  life  and  safe 
ty,"  she  answered,  with  a  rush  of  tears  to  her  eyes. 

Her  sympathy  touched  him  deeply,  and  disarmed 
her  words  of  all  power  to  awaken  resentment. 

"  Mrs.  Arnot,"  he  cried,  passionately,  "  I  did  mean 
—I  did  try — to  do  better  when  I  left  this  place  ;  but, 
between  my  own  accursed  weakness  and  the  hard 
hearted  world,  I  am  here  again,  and  almost  without 
hope." 

"  Egbert,  though  I  did  not  discourage  you  at  the 
time,  I  had  little  hope  of  your  accomplishing  any 
thing  when  you  left  this  cell  some  weeks  since.  You 


FACING  THE  CONSEQUENCES.  287 

went  out  to  regain  your  old  position  and  the  world's 
favor,  as  one  might  look  for  a  jewel  or  sum  of  money 
he  had  lost.  You  can  never  gain  even  these  advan 
tages  in  the  way  you  proposed,  and  if  you  enjoy  them 
again  the  cause  will  exist,  not  in  what  you  do  only, 
but  chiefly  in  what  you  are.  When  you  started  out 
to  win  the  favor  of  society,  from  which  you  had 
been  alienated  partly  by  misfortune,  but  largely 
through  your  own  wrong  action,  there  was  no  radical 
change  in  your  character,  or  even  in  your  controlling 
motives.  You  regretted  the  evil  because  of  its  im 
mediate  and  disagreeable  consequences.  I  do  not 
excuse  the  world's  harshness  toward  the  erring;  but, 
after  all,  if  you  can  disabuse  your  mind  of  preju 
dice  you  will  admit  that  its  action  is  very  natural, 
and  would,  probably,  have  been  your  own  before  you 
passed  under  this  cloud.  Consider  what  the  world 
knows  of  you.  It,  after  all,  is  quite  shrewd  in  judg 
ing  whom  it  may  trust  and  whom  it  is  safe  to  keep 
at  arm's  length.  Knowing  yourself  and  your  own 
weaknesses  as  you  do,  could  you  honestly  recommend 
yourself  to  the  confidence  of  any  one  ?  With  your 
character  unchanged,  what  guarantee  have  you 
against  the  first  temptation  or  gust  of  passion  to 
which  you  are  subjected  ?  You  had  no  lack  of 
wounded  pride  ^and  ambition  when  you  started  out, 
but  you  will  surely  admit  that  such  feelings  are  of 
little  value  compared  with  Christian  integrity  and 
manly  principle,  which  render  any  thing  dishonor 
able  or  base  impossible. 

"  I  do  not  consider   the  world's   favor  worth  very 
much,  but  the  world's   respect    is,  for  it  usually  re- 


288     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

spects  only  what  is  respectable.  As  you  form  a  char 
acter  that  you  can  honestly  respect  yourself,  you 
will  find  society  gradually  learning  to  share  in  that 
esteem.  Believe  me,  Egbert,  if  you  ever  regain  the 
world's  lost  favor,  which  you  value  so  highly,  you 
will  discover  the  first  earnest  of  it  in  your  own 
changed  and  purified  character.  The  world  will  pay 
no  heed  to  any  amount  of  self-assertion,  and  will  re 
main  equally  indifferent  to  appeals  and  upbraidings ; 
but  sooner  or  later  it  will  find  out  just  what  you  are 
in  your  essential  life,  and  will  estimate  you  accord 
ingly.  I  have  dwelt  on  this  phase  of  your  misfortune 
fully,  because  I  see  that  it  weighs  so  heavily  on  your 
heart.  Can  you  accept  my  judgment  in  the  matter? 
Remember,  I  have  lived  nearly  three  times  as  long  as 
you  have,  and  speak  from  ripe  experience.  I  have 
always  been  a  close  observer  of  society,  and  am  quite 
sure  I  am  right.  If  you  were  my  own  son  I  would 
use  the  same  words." 

"  Mrs.  Arnot,"  he  replied  slowly,  with  contracted 
brow,  "  you  are  giving  me  much  to  think  about.  I 
fear  I  have  been  as  stupid  as  I  have  been  bad.  My 
whole  life  seems  one  wretched  blunder." 

"  Ah,  if  you  will  only  think  y  I  shall  have  strong 
hopes  of  you.  But  in  measuring  these  questions  do 
not  use  only  the  inch  rule  of  time  and  earth.  As  I 
have  said  before,  remember  you  will  soon  have  done 
with  earth  forever,  but  never  can  you  get  away  from 
God,  nor  be  rid  of  yourself.  You  are  on  wretched 
terms  with  both,  and  will  be,  whatever  happens,  un 
til  your  nature  is  brought  into  harmony  with  God's 
will.  We  are  so  made,  so  designed  in  our  every 


FACING  THE  CONSEQUENCES.  289 

fiber,  that  evil  tortures  us  like  a  diseased  nerve  ;  and 
it  always  will  till  we  get  rid  of  it.  Therefore,  Eg 
bert,  remember — O  that  I  could  burn  it  into  your 
consciousness  —  the  best  you  can  gain  from  your 
proposed  evil  course  is  a  brief  respite  in  base  and 
sensual  stupefaction,  or  equally  artificial  and  unman 
ly  excitement,  and  then  endless  waking,  bitter  mem 
ories,  and  torturing  regret.  Face  this  truth  now, 
before  it  is  too  late.  Good-by  for  a  time.  I  will 
come  again  when  I  can  ;  or  you  can  send  for  me 
when  you  please  ;  "  and  she  gave  him  her  hand  in 
cordial  pressure. 

He  did  not  say  a  word,  but  his  face  was  very 
white,  and  it  was  evident  that  her  faithful  words  had 
opened  a  prospect  that  had  simply  appalled  him. 


290     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

HOW   EVIL  ISOLATES. 

IF  Haldane  had  been  left  alone  on  an  ice-floe  in  the 
Arctic  Ocean  he  could  scarcely  have  felt  worse 
than  he  did  during  the  remainder  of  the  day  after 
Mrs.  Arnot's  departure.  A  dreary  and  increasing 
sense  of  isolation  oppressed  him.  The  words  of  his 
visitor,  "  What  have  you  to  do  with  the  world  ? " 
and  "  If  you  were  dead  it  would  forget  you  in  a  few 
days,"  repeated  themselves  over  and  over  again. 
His  vindictive  feeling  against  society  died  out  in 
the  consciousness  of  his  weakness  and  insignificance. 
What  is  the  use  of  one's  smiting  a  mountain  with 
his  frst  ?  Only  the  puny  hand  feels  the  blow.  The 
world  became,  under  Mrs.  Arnot's  words,  too  large 
and  vague  a  generality  even  to  be  hated. 

In  order,  to  be  a  misanthrope  one  must  also  be  an 
egotist,  dwarfing  the  objects  of  his  spite,  and  ex 
aggerating  the  small  atom  that  has  arrayed  itself 
against  the  universe.  It  is  a  species  of  insanity, 
wherein  a  mind  has  lost  perception  of  the  correct 
relationship  between  different  existences.  The  poor 
hypochondriac  who  imagined  himself  a  mountain 
was  a  living  satire  on  many  of  his  fellow-creatures, 
who  differed  only  in  being  able  to  keep  similar  de 
lusions  to  themselves. 


HOW  EVIL  ISOLATES. 


291 


Mrs.  Arnot's  plain,  honest,  yet  kindly  words  had 
thrown  down  the  walls  of  prejudice,  and  Haldane's 
mind  lay  open  to  the  truth.  As  has  been  said,  his 
first  impression  was  a  strange  and  miserable  sense 
of  loneliness.  He  saw  what  a  slender  hold  he  had 
upon  the  rest  of  humanity.  The  majority  knew  no 
thing  of  him,  while,  with  few  exceptions,  those  who 
were  aware  of  his  existence  despised  and  detested 
him,  and  would  breathe  more  freely  if  assured  of  his 
death.  He  instinctively  felt»that  the  natural  affec 
tions  of  his  mother  and  sisters  were  borne  down  and 
almost  overwhelmed  by  his  course  and  character. 
If  they  had  any  visitors  in  the  seclusion  to  which 
his  disgrace  had  driven  them,  his  name  would  be 
avoided  with  morbid  sensitiveness,  and  yet  all  would 
be  as  painfully  conscious  of  him  as  if  he  were  a 
corpse  in  the  room,  which  by  some  monstrous  ne 
cessity  could  not  be  buried.  While  they  might  shed 
natural  tears,  he  was  not  sure  but  that  deep  in  their 
hearts  would  come  a  sense  of  relief  should  they  hear 
that  he  was  dead,  and  so  could  not  deepen  the  stain 
he  had  already  given  to  a  name  once  so  respectable. 
He  knew  that  his  indifference  and  overbearing  man 
ner  toward  his  sisters  had  alienated  them  from  him  ; 
while  in  respect  to  Mrs.  Haldane,  her  aristocratic  con 
ventionality,  the  most  decided  tra.it  of  her  character, 
would  always  be  in  sharp  contest  with  her  strong 
mother-love,  and  thus  he  would  ever  be  only  a 
source  of  disquiet  and  wretchedness  whether  pres 
ent  or  absent.  In  view  of  the  discordant  elements 
and  relations  now  existing,  there  was  not  a  place  on 
earth  less  attractive  than  his  own  home. 


292     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

It  may  at  first  seem  a  contradiction  to  say  that 
the  thought  of  Mrs.  Arnot  gave  him  a  drearier  sense 
of  isolation  than  the  memory  of  all  else.  In  her 
goodness  she  seemed  to  belong  to  a  totally  different 
world  from  himself  and  people  in  general.  He  had 
nothing  in  common  with  her.  She  seemed  to  come 
to  him  almost  literally  as  an  angel  of  mercy,  and 
from  an  infinite  distance,  and  her  visits  must,  of 
necessity,  be  like  those  of  the  angels,  few  and  far 
between,  and,  in  view  of  his  character,  must  soon 
cease.  He  shrank  from  her  purity  and  nobility  even 
while  drawn  toward  her  by  her  sympathy.  He  in 
stinctively  felt  that  in  all  her  deep  commiseration 
of  him  she  could  not  for  a  moment  tolerate  the  de 
basing  evil  of  his  nature,  and  that  this  evil,  refained, 
would  speedily  and  inevitably  separate  them  for 
ever.  Could  he  be  rid  of  it?  He  did  not  know. 
He  could  not  then  see  how.  In  his  weakness  and 
despondency  it  seemed  inwrought  with  every  fiber 
of  his  being,  and  an  essential  part  of  himself.  As 
for  Laura,  she  was  like  a  bright  star  that  had  set, 
and  was  no  longer  above  his  dim  horizon. 

As  he  felt  himself  thus  losing  his  hold  on  the 
companionship  and  remembrance  of  others,  he  was 
thrown  back  upon  himself,  and  this  led  him  to  feel 
with  a  sort  of  dreary  foreboding  that  it  would  be  a 
horrible  thing  thus  to  be  chained  forever  to  a  self 
toward  whom  the  higher  faculties  of  his  soul  must 
ever  cherish  only  hatred  and  loathing.  Even  now 
he  hated  himself — nay,  more,  he  was  enraged  with 
himself — in  view  of  the  folly  of  which  he  had  been 
capable.  What  could  be  worse  than  the  endless 


HOW  EVIL  ISOLATES. 


293 


companionship  of  the  base  nature  which  had  already 
dragged  him  down  so  low  ? 

As  the  hours  passed,  the  weight  upon  his  heart 
grew  heavier,  and  the  chill  of  dread  more  unendur 
able.  He  saw  his  character  as  another  might  see  it. 
He  saw  a  nature  to  which,  from  infancy,  a  wrong 
bias  had  been  given,  made  selfish  by  indulgence, 
imperious  and  strong  onty  in  carrying  out  impulses 
'  and  in  gratifying  base  passions,  but  weak  as  water 
in  resisting  evil  and  thwarting  its  vile  inclinations. 
The  pride  and  hope  that  had  sustained  him  in  what 
he  regarded  as  the  great  effort  of  his  life  were  gone, 
and  he  felt  neither  strength  nor  courage  to  attempt 
any  thing  further.  He  saw  himself  helpless  and 
prostrate  before  his  fate,  and  yet  that  fate  was 
so  terrible  that  he  shrank  from  it  with  increasing 
dread. 

What  could  he  do  ?  Was  it  possible  to  do  any 
thing?  Had  he  not  lost  his  footing?  If  a  man 
is  caught  in  the  rapids,  up  to  a  certain  point  his 
struggle  against  the  tide  is  full  of  hope,  but  be 
yond  that  point  no  effort  ca'n  avail.  Had  he  not 
been  swept  so  far  down  toward  the  final  plunge  that 
grim  despair  were  better  than  frantic  but  vain  effort? 

And  yet  he  felt  that  he  could  not  give  himself  up 
to  the  absolute  mastery  of  evil  without  one  more 
struggle.  Was  there  any  chance?  Was  he  capable 
of  making  the  needful  effort  ? 

Thus  hopes  and  fears,  bitter  memories  and  pas 
sionate  regrets,  swept  to  and  fro  through  his  soul 
like  stormy  gusts.  A  painful  experience  and  Mrs. 
Arnot's  words  were  teaching  the  giddy,  thoughtless 


294     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

young  fellow  what  life  meant,  and  were,  forcing  upon 
his  attention  the  inevitable  questions  connected  with 
it  which  must  be  solved  sooner  or  later,  and  which 
usually  grow  more  difficult  as  the  consideration  of 
them  is  delayed,  and  they  become  complicated.  As 
his  cell  grew  dusky  with  its  early  twilight,  as  he 
thought  of  another  long  night  whose  darkness  would 
be  light  compared  with  the  shadow  brooding  on 
his  prospects,  his  courage  and  endurance  gave  way. 

With  something  of  the  feeling  of  a  terror-stricken 
child  he  called  the  under-sheriff,  and  asked  for  writ 
ing  materials.  With  a  pencil  he  wrote  hastily : 

"  MRS.  ARNOT  : — I  entreat  you  to  visit  me  once  more  to-day.  Your 
words  have  left  me  in  torture.  I  cannot  face  the  consequences, 
and  yet  see  no  way  of  escape.  It  would  be  very  cruel  to  leave  me  to 
my  despairing  thoughts  for  another  night,  and  you  are  not  cruel." 

In  dispatching  the  missive  he  said,  "  I  can  pro 
mise  that  if  this  note  is  delivered  to  Mrs.  Arnot  at 
once,  the  bearer  shall  be  well  paid." 

Moments  seemed  hours  while  he  waited  for  an 
answ"er.  Suppose  the  letter  was  not  delivered — sup 
pose  Mrs.  Arnot  was  absent.  A  hundred  miserable 
conjectures  flitted  through  his  mind  ;  but  his  confi 
dence  in  his  friend  was  such  that  even  his  morbid 
fear  did  not  suggest  that  she  would  not  come. 

The  lady  was  at  the  dinner-table  when  the  note 
was  handed  to  her,  and  after  reading  it  she  rose 
hastily  and  excused  herself. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ? "  asked  her  husband 
sharply. 

"A  person  in  trouble  has  sent  for  me." 

"  Well,  unless  the  person  is  in  the  midst  of  a  sur- 


HOW  EVIL  ISOLATES.  295 

gical  operation,  he,  she,  or  it,  whichever  this  person 
may  be,  can  wait  till  you  finish  your  dinner." 

"  1  am  going  to  visit  Egbert  Haldane,"  said  Mrs. 
Arnot  quietly.  "  Jane,  please  tell  Michael  to  come 
round  with  the  carriage  immediately." 

"  You  visit  the  city  prison  at  this  hour  !  Now  I 
protest.  The  young  rake  probably  has  the  delirium 
tremens.  Send  our  physician  rather,  if  some  one 
must  go,  though  leaving  him  to  the  jailer  and  a 
strait-jacket  would  be  better  still." 

"  Please  excuse  me,"  answered  his  wife,  with  her 
hand  on  the  door-knob;'  "you  forget  my  relations 
to  Mrs.  Haldane  ;  her  son  has  sent  for  me." 

" '  Her  relations  to  Mrs.  Haldane ! '  As  if  she 
were  not  always  at  the  beck  and  call  of  every  beggar 
and  criminal  in  town  !  I  do  wish  I  had  a  wife  who 
was  too  much  of  a  lady  to  have  any  thing  to  do  with 
this  low  scum." 

A  few  moments  later  Mr.  Arnot  broke  out  anew 
with  muttered  complaint  and  invective,  as  he  heard 
the  carriage  driven  rapidly  away. 

As  by  the  flickering  light  of  a  dip  candle  Mrs. 
Arnot  saw  Haldane's  pale,  haggard  face,  she  did  not 
regret  that  she  had  come  at  once,  for  a  glance  gave 
to  her  the  evidence  of  a  human  soul  in  its  extremity. 

In  facing  these  deep  questions  of  life,  some  regard 
themselves  as  brave  or  philosophical.  Perhaps  it 
were  nearer  the  truth  to  say  they  are  stolid,  and  are 
staring  at  that  which  they  do  not  understand  and 
cannot  yet  realize.  Where  in  history  do  we  read — 
who  from  a  ripe  experience  can  give — an  instance  of 
a  happy  life  developing  under  the  deepening  shadow 


296      KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

of  evil  ?  Suppose  one  has  seen  high  types  of  char 
acter  and  happiness,  and  was  capable  of  appreciat 
ing  them,  but  finds  that  he  has  cherished  a  sottish, 
beastly  nature  so  long  that  it  has  become  his  master, 
promising  to  hold  him  in  thralldom  ever  afterward ; 
— can  there  be  a  more  wretched  form  of  captivity  ? 
The  ogre  of  a  debased  nature  drags  the  soul  away 
from  light  and  happiness — from  all  who  are  good  and 
pure — to  the  hideous  solitude  of  self  and  memory. 

There  are  those  who  will  be  incredulous  and  even 
resentful  in  view  of  this  picture,  but  it  will  not  be  the 
first  time  that  facts  have  been  quarreled  with.  It  is 
true  that  many  are  writhing  and  groaning  in  this 
cruel  bondage,  mastered  and  held  captive  by  some 
debasing  appetite  or  passion,  perhaps  by  many. 
Sometimes,  with  a  bitter,  desparing  sorrow,  of  which 
superficial  observers  of  life  can  have  no  idea,  they 
speak  of  these  horrid  chains  ;  sometimes  they  tug  at 
them  almost  frantically.  A  few  escape,  but  more 
are  dragged  down  and  away — away  from  honorable 
companionships  and  friendships ;  away  from  places 
of  trust,  from  walks  of  usefulness  and  safety;  away 
from  parents,  from  wife  and  children,  untii  the  awful 
isolation  is  complete,  and  the  guilty  soul  finds  itself 
alone  with  the  sin  that  mastered  it,  conscious  that 
God  only  will  ever  see  and  remember.  Human 
friends  will  forget — they  must  forget  in  order  to  ob 
tain  relief  from  an  object  that  has  become  morally 
too  unsightly  to  be  looked  upon  ;  and  in  mercy  they 
are  so  created  that  they  can  forget,  though  it  may 
be  long  before  it  is  possible. 

There  are  people  who  scout  this  awful  mystery 


HOW  EVIL  ISOLATES. 


297 


of  evil.  They  have  beautiful  little  theories  of  their 
own,  which  they  have  spun  in  the  seclusion  of  their 
studies.  They  keep  carefully  within  their  shady, 
flower-bordered  walks,  and  ignore  the  existence  of 
the  world's  dusty  highways,  in  which  so  many  are 
fainting  and  being  trampled  upon.  What  they  do 
not  see  does  not  exist.  What  they  do  not  believe 
is  not  true.  They  cannot  condemn  too  severely  the 
lack  of  artistic- taste  and  liberal  culture  which  leads 
any  one  to  regard  sin  as  other  than  a  theologian's 
phrase  or  a  piquant  element  in  human  life,  which 
otherwise  would  be  rather  dull  and  flavorless. 

Mrs.  Arnot  was  not  a  theorist,  nor  was  she  the 
elegant  lady,  wholly  given  to  the  esthetic  culture 
that  her  husband  desired  ;  she  was  a  large-hearted 
woman,  and  she  understood  human  life  and  its 
emergencies  sufficiently  well  to  tremble  with  appre 
hension  when  she  saw  the  face  of  Egbert  Haldane, 
for  she  felt  that  a  deathless  soul  in  its  crisis — its 
deepest  spiritual  need — was  looking  to  her  solely 
for  help. 


298    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

IDEAL  KNIGHTHOOD. 

MRS,  ARNOT  again  came  directly  to  the  youth, 
and  put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder  with  mother 
ly  freedom  and  kindliness.  Beyond  even  the  word 
of  sympathy  is  the  touch  of  sympathy,  and  it  often 
conveys  to  the  fainting  heart  a  subtle  power  to  hope 
and  trust  again  which  the  materialist  cannot  explain. 
The  Divine  Physician  often  touched  those  whom  he 
healed.  He  laid  his  hand  fearlessly  on  the  leper 
from  whom  all  shrank  with  inexpressible  dread. 
The  moral  leper  who  trembled  under  Mrs.  Arnot's 
hand  felt  that  he  was  not  utterly  lost  and  beyond 
the  pale  of  hope,  if  one  so  good  and  pure  could  still 
touch  him  ;  and  there  came  a  hope,  like  a  ray  strug 
gling  through  thick  darkness,  that  the  hand  that  ca 
ressed  might  rescue  him. 

"  Egbert,"  said  the  lady  gravely,  "  tell  me  what  I 
can  do  for  you." 

"  I  cannot  face  the  consequences,"  he  replied  in  a 
low,  shuddering  tone. 

"  And  do  you  only  dread  the  consequences  ?  "  Mrs. 
Arnot  asked  sadly.  "  Do  you  not  think  of  the  evil 
which  is  the  cause  of  your  trouble?" 

"  I  can  scarcely  separate  the  sin  from  the  suffer- 


IDEAL  KNIGHTHOOD.  299 

ing.  My  mind  is  confused,  and  I  am  overwhelmed 
with  fear  and  loneliness.  All  who  are  good  and  all 
that  is  good  seemed  to  be  slipping  from  me,  and  I 
should  soon  be  left  only  to  my  miserable  self.  O, 
Mrs.  Arnot,  no  doubt  I  seem  to  you  like  a  weak, 
guilty  coward.  I  seem  so  to  myself.  If  it  were 
danger  or  difficulty  I  had  to  face  I  would  not  fear ; 
but  this  slow,  inevitable,  increasing  pressure  of  a 
horrible  fate,  this  seeing  clearly  that  evil  cuts  me  off 
from  hope  and  all  happiness,  and  yet  to  feel  that  I 
cannot  escape  from  it — that  I  am  too  weak  to  break 
my  chains — it  is  more  than  I  can  endure.  I  fear 
that  I  should  have  gone  mad  if  you  had  not  come. 
Do  you  think  there  is  any  chance  for  me  ?  I  feel  as 
if  I  had  lost  my  manhood." 

Mrs.  Arnot  took  the  chair  which  the  sheriff  had 
brought  on  her  entrance,  and  said  quietly,  "  Perhaps 
you  have,  Egbert ;  many  a  man  has  lost  what  you 
mean  by  that  term." 

"  You  speak  of  it  with  a  composure  that  I  can 
scarcely  understand,"  said  Haldane,  with  a  quick 
glance  of  inquiry ;  "  it  seems  to  me  an  irreparable 
loss." 

"  It  does  not  seem  so  great  a  loss  to  me,"  replied 
Mrs.  Arnot  gently.  "As  your  physician  you  must 
let  me  speak  plainly  again.  It  seems  to  me  that 
what  you  term  your  manhood  was  composed  largely 
of  pride,  conceit,  ignorance  of  yourself,  and  inexpe 
rience  of  the  world.  You  were  liable  to  lose  it  at 
any  time,  just  as  you'did,  partly  through  your  own 
folly,  and  partly  through  the  wrong  of  others.  You 
know,  Egbert,  that  I  have  always  been  interested 


300    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

in  young  men,  and  what  many  of  them  regard  as 
their  manhood  is  not  of  much  value  to  themselves 
or  any  one  else." 

"Is  it  nothing  to  be  so  weak,, disheartened,  and 
debased  that  you  lie  prostrate  in  the  mire  of  your 
own  evil  natu-re,  as  it  were,  and  with  no  power  to 
rise  ?  "  he  asked  bittejrly.  * 

"  That  is  sad  indeed." 

"  Well,  that's  just  my  condition — or  I  fear  it  is, 
though  your  coming  has  brought  a  gleam  of  hope. 
Mrs.  Arnot,"  he  continued  passionately,  "I  don't 
know  how  to  be  different ;  I  don't  feel  capable  of 
making  any  persistent  and  successful  effort.  I  feel 
that  I  have  lost  all  moral  force  and  courage.  The 
odds  are  too  great.  I  can't  get  up  again." 

"  Perhaps  you  cannot,  Egbert,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot 
very  gravely ;  "  it  would  seem  that  some  never  do — " 

He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  groaned. 

"  You  have,  indeed,  a  difficult  problem  to  solve, 
and,  looking  at  it  from  your  point  of  view,  I  do  not 
wonder  that  it  seems  impossible." 

"  Cannot  you,  then,  give  me  any  hope  ?  " 

"No,  Egbert;  /cannot.  It  is  not  in  my  power 
to  make  you  a  good  man.  You  know  that  I  would 
do  so  if  I  could." 

"  Would  to  God  I  had  never  lived,  then  !  "  he  ex 
claimed,  desperately. 

"  Can  you  offer  God  no  better  prayer  than  that? 
Will  you  try  to  be  calm,  and  listen  patiently  to-  me 
for  a  few  moments  ?  When  I  Said  /  could  not  give 
you  hope — /  could  not  make  you  a  good  man — I 
expressed  one  of  my  strongest  convictions.  But  I 


IDEAL  KNIGHTHOOD.  301 

have  not  said,  Egbert,  that  there  is  no  hope,-  no 
chance,  for  you.  On  the  contrary,  there  is  abund 
ant  hope — yes,  absolute  certainty — of  your  achiev 
ing  a  noble  character,  if  you  will  set  about  it  in  the 
right  way.  But  as  one  of  the  first  and  indispensa 
ble  conditions  of  success,  I  wish  you  to  realize  that 
the  task  is  too  great  for  you  alone  ;  too  great  with 
my  help  ;  too  great  if  the  world  that  seems  so  hos 
tile  should  unite  to  help  you  ;  and  yet  neither  I  nor 
all  the  world  could  prevent  your  success  if  you  went 
to  the  right  and  true  source  of  help.  Why  have 
you  forgotten  God  in  your  emergency  ?  Why  are 
you  looking  solely  to  yourself  and  to  another  weak 
fellow-creature  like  yourself?  " 

"You  are  in  no  respect  like  me,  Mrs.  Arnot,  and 
it  seems  profanation  even  to  suggest  the  thought." 

"  I  have  the  same  nature.  I  struggled  vainly  and 
almost  hopelessly  against  my  peculiar  weaknesses 
and  temptations  and  sorrows  until  I  heard  God  say 
ing,  '  Come,  my  child,  let  us  work  together.  It  is 
my  will  you  should  do  all  you  can  yourself,  and 
what  you  cannot  do  I  will  do  for  you.'  Since  that 
time  I  have  often  had  to  struggle  hard,  but  never 
vainly.  There  have  been  seasons  when  my  burdens 
grew  so  heavy  that  I  was  ready  to  faint;  but  after 
appealing  to  my  heavenly  Father,  as  a  little  child 
might  cry  for  help,  the  crushing  weight  would  pass 
away,  and  I  become  able  to  go  on  my  way  relieved 
and  hopeful." 

4<  I  cannot  understand  it,"  said  the  young  man, 
looking  at  her  in  deep  perplexity. 

"  That  does  not  prevent  its  being  true.     The  most 


302     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

skillful  physician  cannot  explain  why  certain  bene 
ficial  effects  follow  the  use  of  certain  remedies ;  but 
when  these  effects  become  an  established  fact  of 
experience  it  were  sensible  to  employ  the  remedy  as 
soon  as  possible.  One  might  suffer  a  great  deal, 
and,  perhaps,  perish,  while  asking  questions  and 
waiting  for  answers.  To  my  mind  the  explanation 
is  very  simple.  God  is  our  Creator,  and  calls  him 
self  our  Father.  It  would  be  natural  on  general 
principles  that 'he  should  take  a  deep  interest  in  us; 
but  he  assures  us  of  the  profound^est  love,  employ 
ing  our  tenderest  earthly  ties  to  explaki  how  he 
feels  toward  us.  What  is  more  natural  than  for  a 
father  to  help  a  child?  What  is  more  certain,  also, 
than  that  a  wise  father  would  teach  a  child  to  do  all 
within  his  ability  to  help  himself,  and  so  develop 
the  powers  with  which  he  is  endowed  ?  Only  in 
fants  are  supposed  to  be  perfectly  helpless." 

"  It  would  seem  that  what  you  say  ought  to  be 
true,  and  yet  I  have  always  half-feared  God — that 
is,  when  I  thought  about  him  at  all.  I  have  been 
taught  that  he  was  to  be  served ;  that  he  was  a  jeal 
ous  God;  that  he  was  angry  with  the  sinful,  and 
that  the  prayers  of  the  wicked  were  an  abomination. 
I  am  sure  the  Bible  says  the  latter  is  true,  or  some 
thing  like  it." 

"  It  is  true.  If  you  set  your  heart  on  some  evil 
course,  or  are  deliberating  some  dishonesty  or  mean 
ness,  be  careful  how  you  make  long  or  short  prayers 
to  God  while  willfully  persisting  in  your  sin.  When 
a  man  is  robbing  and  cheating,  though  in  the  most 
legal  manner — when  he  is  gratifying  lust,  hate,  or 


IDEAL  KNIGHTHOOD.  303 

appetite,  and  intends  to  continue  doing  so — the  less 
praying  he  does  the  better.  An  avowed  infidel 
is  more  acceptable.  But  the  sweetest  music  that 
reaches  heaven  is  the  honest  cry  for  help  to  forsake 
sin ;  and  the  more  sinful  the  heart  that  thus  cries 
out  for  deliverance  the  more  welcome  the  appeal. 
Let  me  illustrate  what  I  mean  by  your  own  case. 
If  you  should  go  out  from  this  prison  in  the  same 
spirit  that  you  did  once  before,  seeking  to  gain  posi 
tion  and  favor  only  for  the  purpose  of  gratifying 
your  own  pride, — only  that  self  might  be  advantaged, 
without  any  generous  and  disinterested  regard  for 
others,  without  any  recognition  of  the  sacred  duties 
you  owe  to  God,  and  content  with  a  selfish,  narrow, 
impure  soul, — if,  with  such  a  disposition,  you  should 
commence  asking  for  God's  help  as  a  means  to  these 
petty,  miserable  ends,  your  prayers  would,  and  with 
good  reason,  be  an  abomination  to  him.  But  if  you 
had  sunk  to  far  lower  depths  than  those  in  which 
you  now  find  yourself,  and  should  cry  out  for  purity, 
for  the  sonship  of  a  regenerated  character,  your 
voice  would  not  only  reach  your  divine  Father's  ear, 
but  his  heart,  which  would  yearn  toward  you  with 
a  tender  commiseration  that  I  could  not  feel  were 
you  my  only  son." 

The  sincerity  and  earnestness  of  Mrs.  Arnot's 
words  were  attested  by  her  fast-gathering  tears. 

"  This  is  all  new  to  me.  But  if  God  is  so  kindly 
disposed  toward  us, — so  ready  to  help, — why  does 
he  not  reveal  himself  in  this  light  more  clearly?  why 
are  we  so  slow  and  long  in  finding  him  out  ?  Until 
you  came  he  seemed  against  me." 


304     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  We  will  not  discuss  this  matter  in  general.  Take 
your  own  experience  again.  Perhaps  it  has  been 
your  fault,  not  God's,  that  you  misunderstood  him. 
He  tries  to  show  how  he  feels  toward  us  in  many 
ways,  chiefly  by  his  written  Word,  by  what  he  leads 
his  people  to  do  for  us,  and  by  his  great  mind  acting 
directly  on  ours.  Has  not  the  Bible  been  within 
your  reach?  Have  none  of  God's  servants  tried  to 
advise  and  help  you  ?  I  think  you  must  have  seen 
some  such  effort  on  my  part  when  you  were  an  in 
mate  of  my  home.  I  am  here  this  evening  as  God's 
messenger  to  you.  All  the  hope  I  have  of  you  is 
inspired  by  his  disposition  and  power  to  help  you. 
You  may  continue  to  stand  aloof  from  him,  declin 
ing  his  aid,  just  as  you  avoided  your  mother  and 
myself  all  these  weeks  when  we  were  longing  to  help 
you ;  but  if  you  sink,  yours  will  be  the  fate  of  one 
who  refuses  to  grasp  the  strong  hand  that  is,  and 
ever  has  been,  seeking  yours." 

"  Mrs.  Arnot,"  said  Haldane  thoughtfully,  "  if  all 
you  say  is  true  there  is  hope  for  me — there  is  hope 
for  every  one." 

Mrs.  Arnot  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  said, 
with  seeming  abruptness, 

"  You  have  read  of  the  ancient  knights  and  their 
deeds,  have  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  was  the  wondering  reply,  "  but  the  sub 
ject  seems  very  remote." 

"  You  are  in  a  position  to  realize  my  very  ideal  of 
knightly  endeavor." 

"  I,  Mrs.  Arnot !     What  can, you  mean  ? " 

"  Whether  I  am  right  or  wrong  I  can  soon  ex- 


IDEAL  KNIGHTHOOD.  305 

plain  what  I  mean.  The  ancient  knight  set  his 
lance  in  rest  against  what  seemed  to  him  the  wrongs 
and  evils  of  the  world.  In  theory  he  was  to  be  with 
out  fear  and  without  reproach — as  pure  as  the  white 
cross  upon  his  mantle.  But  in  fact  the  average 
knight  was  very  human.  His  white  cross  was  soon 
soiled  by  foreign  travel,  but  too  often  not  before  his 
soul  was  stained  with 'questionable  deeds.  It  was 
a  life  of  adventure  and  excitement,  and  abundantly 
gratifying  to  pride  and  ambition.  While  it  could  be 
idealized  into  a  noble  calling,  it  too  often  ended  in 
a  lawless,  capricious  career  of  self-indulgence.  The 
cross  on  the  mantle  symbolized  the  heavy  blows  and 
sorrows  in'flicted  on  those  who  had  the  misfortune  to 
differ  in  opinion,  faith,  or  race  with  the  knight,  the 
steel  of  whose  armor  seemingly  got  into  his  heart, 
rather  than  any  personal  self-denial.  Without  any 
moral  change  on  his  part  he  could  fight  the  infidel 
or  those  whose  views  differed  from  his  with  great 
zest. 

"  But  the  man  who  will  engage  successfully  in  a 
crusade  against  the  evil  of  his  own  heart  must  have 
the  spirit  of  a  true  knight,  for  he  attempts  the  most 
difficult  and  heroic  task  within  the  limits  of  .human 
endeavor.  It  is  comparatively  easy  to  run  a  tilt 
against  a  fellow-mortal,  or  an  external  evil ;  but  to 
set  our  lance  in  rest  against  a  cherished  sin,  a 
habit  that  has  become  our  second  nature,  and  re 
morselessly  ride  it  down, — to  grapple  with  a  secret 
fault  in  the  solitude  of  our  own  soul,  with  no  ap 
plauding  hands  to  spur  us  on,  and  fight  and  wrestle 
for  weary  months, — years  perhaps, — this  does  require 


3o6      KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

heroism  of  the  highest  order,  and  the  man  who  can 
do  it  is  my  ideal  knight. 

"You  inveigh  against  the  world,  Egbert,  as  if  it 
\vere  a  harsh  and  remorseless  foe,  bent  on  crushing 
you ;  but  you  have  far  more  dangerous  enemies 
lurking  in  your  own  heart.  If  you  could  thoroughly 
subdue  these  with  God's  aid,  you  would  at  the  same 
time  overcome  the  world,  or  find  yourself  so  inde 
pendent  of  it  as  scarcely  to  care  whether  or  no  it 
gave  you  its  favor.  When  you  left  this  prison  be 
fore,  you  sought  in  the  wrong  way  to  win  the  position 
you  had  lost.  You  were  very  proud  of  your  former 
standing;  but  you  had  very  little  occasion  to  be,  for 
you  had  inherited  it.  The  deeds  of  others,  not  your 
own,  had  won  it  for  you.  If  you  had  realized  it,  it 
gave  you  a  great  vantage,  but  that  was  all.  If  you 
had  been  content  to  have  remained  a  conceited,  com 
monplace  man,  versed  only  in  the  fashionable  jargon 
and  follies  of  the  hour,  and  basing  your  claims  on 
the  wealth  which  you  had  shown  neither  the  ability 
nor  industry  to  win,  you  would  never  have  had  my 
respect. 

"  Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  such  shadows  of  men  are 
respected  by  no  one,  not  even  themselves,  even 
though  they  may  commit  no  deed  which  society  con 
demns.  But  if  in  this  prison  cell  you  set  your  face 
like  a  flint  against  the  weaknesses  and  grave  faults  of 
your  nature  which  have  brought  you  here,  and  which 
would  have  made  you  any  thing  but  an  admirable 
man  had  you  retained  your  old  position, — if,  with 
God  as  your  fast  ally,  you  wage  unrelenting  and 
successful  war  against  all  that  is  unworthy  of  a 


IDEAL  KNIGHTHOOD.  307 

Christian  manhood, — I  will  not  only  respect,  I  will 
honor  you.  You  will  be  one  of  my  ideal  knights." 

As  Mrs.  Arnot  spoke,  Haldane's  eyes  kindled,  and 
his  drooping  manner  was  exchanged  for  an  aspect 
that  indicated  reviving  hope  and  courage. 

"  I  have  lost  faith  in  myself,"  he  said  slowly ; 
"  and  as  yet  I  have  no  faith  in  God  ;  but  after  what 
you  have  said  I  do  not  fear  him  as  I  did.  I  have 
faith  in  you,  however,  Mrs.  Arnot,  and  I  would  rather 
gain  your  respect  than  that  of  all  the  world.  You 
know  me  now  better  than  any  one  else.  Do  you 
truly  believe  that  I  could  succeed  in  such  a  struggle  ?  " 

"  Without  faith  in  God  you  cannot.  Even  the 
ancient  knight,  whose  success  depended  so  much  on 
the  skill  and  strength  of  his  arm,  and  the  temper  of 
his  weapons  and  armor,  was  supposed  to  spend  hours 
in  prayer  before  attempting  any  great  thing.  But 
with  God's  help  daily  sought  and  obtained,  you  can 
not  fail.  You  can  achieve  that  which  the  world 
cannot  take  from  you, — which  will  be  a  priceless 
possession  after  the  world  has  forgotten  you  and 
you  it, — a  noble  character." 

Haldane  was  silent  several  moments,  then,  draw 
ing  a  long  breath,  he  said,  slowly  and  humbly, 

"  How  I  am  to  do  this  I  do  not  yet  understand ; 
but  if  you  will  guide  me,  I  will  attempt  it." 

"  This  book  will  guide  you,  Egbert,"  said  Mrs. 
Arnot,  placing  her  Bible  in  his  hands.  "  God  him 
self  will  guide  you  if  you  ask  sincerely.  Good 
night."  And  she  gave  him  such  a  warm  and  friendly 
grasp  of  the  hand  as  to  prove  that  evil  had  not  yet 
wholly  isolated  him  from  the  pure  and  good. 


308    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE  LOW  STARTING-POINT. 

ON  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day  Mrs.  Ar- 
not  again  visited  Haldane,  bringing  him  sev 
eral  letters  from  his  mother  which  had  been  sent  in 
her  care ;  and  she  urged  that  the  son  should  write 
at  once  in  a  way  that  would  reassure  the  mother's 
heart. 

In  his  better  mood  the  young  man's  thoughts  re 
curred  to  his  mother  with  a  remorseful  tenderness, 
and  he  eagerly  sought  out  the  envelope  bearing  the 
latest  date,  and  tore  it  open.  As  he  read,  the  pallor 
and  pain  expressed  in  his  face  became  so  great  that 
Mrs.  Arnot  was  much  troubled,  fearing  that  the  let 
ter  contained  evil  tidings. 

Without  a  word  he  handed  it  to  her,  and  also  two 
inclosed  paragraphs  cut  from  newspapers. 

"  Do  you  think  your  mother  would  wish  me  to 
see  it  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Arnot,  hesitatingly. 

"  I  wish  you  to  see  it,  and  it  contains  no  injunc 
tions  of  secrecy.  Indeed,  she  has  been  taking  some 
very  open  and  decided  steps  which  are  here  indi 
cated." 

Mrs.  Arnot  read: 

MY  UNNATURAL  SON  : — Though  you  will  not  write  me  a  line, 
you  still  make  it  certain  that  I  shall  hear  from  you,  as  the  inclosed 


THE  LOW  STARTING-POINT. 


309 


clippings  from  Hillaton  papers  may  prove  to  you.  You  have  for 
feited  all  claim  on  both  your  sisters  and  myself.  Our  lawyer  has 
been  here  to-day,  and  has  shown  me,  what  is  only  too  evident,  that 
money  would  be  a  curse  to  you — that  you  would  squander  it  and  dis 
grace  yourself  still  more,  if  such  a  thing  were  possible.  As  the  prop 
erty  is  wholly  in  my  hands,  I  shall  arrange  it  in  such  a  way  that  you 
shall  never  have  a  chance  to  waste  it.  If  you  will  comply  with  the 
following  conditions  I  will  supply  all  that  is  essential  to  one  of  your 
nature  and  tastes.  I  stipulate  that  you  leave  Hillaton,  and  go  to 
some  quiet  place  where  our  name  is  not  known,  and  that  you  there 
live  so  quietly  that  I  shall  hear  of  no  more  disgraceful  acts  like  those 
herein  described.  I  have  given  up  the  hope  of  hearing  any  thing 
good.  If  you  will  do  this  I  will  pay  your  board  and  grant  you  a 
reasonable  allowance.  If  you  will  not  do  this,  you  end  all  commu 
nication  between  us,  and  we  must  be  as  strangers  until  you  can  show 
an  entirely  different  spirit. 

Yours  in  bitter  shame  and  sorrow, 

EMILY  HALDANE. 

The  clippings  were  Mr.  Shrumpf  s  version  of  his 
own  swindle,  and  a  tolerably  correct  account  of  the 
events  whjch  led  to  the  present  imprisonment. 

"  Will  you  accept  your  mother's  offer?  "  Mrs.  Ar- 
not  asked,  anxiously,  for  she  was  much  troubled  as 
to  what  might  be  the  effect  of  the  unfortunate  letter 
at  this  juncture. 

"  No  !  "  he  replied  with  sharp  emphasis. 

"  Egbert,  remember  you  have  given  your  mother 
the  gravest  provocation." 

"  I  also  remember  that  she  did  her  best  to  make 
me  the  fool  I  have  been,  and  she  might  have  a  little 
more  patience  now.  The  truth  is  that  mother's  God 
was  respectability,  and  she  will  never  forgive  me  for 
destroying  her  idol." 

"  Read  the  other  letters ;  there  may  be  that  in 
them  which  will  be  more  reassuring." 


KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  No,  I  thank  you,"  he  replied,  bitterly ;  "  I  have 
had  all  that. I  can  stand  for  one  day.  She  believes 
the  infernal  lie  which  that  scoundrel  Shrumpf  tells, 
and  gives  me  no  hearing;  "  and  he  related  to  Mrs. 
Arnotthe  true  version  of  the  affair. 

She  had  the  tact  to  see  that  his  present  perturbed 
condition  was  not  her  opportunity,  and  she  soon  after 
left  him  in  a  mood  that  promised  little  of  good  for 
the  future. 

But  in  the  long,  quiet  hours  that  followed  her  de 
parture  his  thoughts  were  busy.  However  much  he 
miglit  think  that  others  were  the  cause  of  his  unhap 
py  plight,  he  had  seen  that  he  was  far  more  to  blame. 
It  had  been  made  still  more  clear  that,  even  if  he 
could  shift  this  blame  somewhat,  he  could  not  the 
consequences.  Mrs.  Arnot's  words  had  given  him 
a  glimpse  of  light,  and  had  revealed  a  path,  which, 
though  still  vague  and  uncertain,  promised  to  lead 
out  of  the  present  labyrinth  of  evil.  During  the 
morning  hours  he  had  dared  to  hope,  and  even  to 
pray,  that  he  might  find  a  way  of  escape  from  his 
miserable  self  and  the  wretched  condition  to  which 
it  had  brought  him.  * 

For  a  long  time  he  turned  the  leaves  of  Mrs.  Ar 
not's  Bible,  and  here  and  there  a  text  would  flash 
out  like  a  light  upon  the  clouded  future,  but  as  a 
general  thing  the  words  had  little  meaning. 

To  his  ardent  and  somewhat  imaginative  nature 
she  had  presented  the  struggle  toward  a  better  life 
in  the  most  attractive  light.  He  was  not  asked  to 
do  something  which  was  vague  and  mystical ;  he 
was  not  exhorted  to  emotions  and  beliefs  of  which 


THE  LOW  STARTING-POINT.  31  j 

he  was  then  incapable,  nor  to  forms  and  ceremonies 
that  were  meaningless  to  him,  nor  to  professions 
equally  hollow.  On  the  contrary,  the  evils,  the  de 
fects  of  his  own  nature,  were  given  an  objective  form, 
and  he  c«uld  almost  see  himself,  like  a  knight,  with 
lance  in  rest,  preparing  to  run  a  tilt  against  the  per 
sonal  faults  which  had  done  him  such  injury.  The 
deeper  philosophy,  that  his  heart  was  the  rank  soil 
from  which  sprang  these  faults,  would  come  with 
fuller  experience. 

But  in  a  measure  he  had  understood  and  had  been 
inspired  by  Mrs.  Arnot's  thought.  Although  from  a 
weak  mother's  indulgence  and  his  own,  from  wasted 
years  and  bad  companionships,  his  life  was  well-nigh 
spoiled,  he  still  had  sufficient  mind  to  see  that  to 
fight  down  the  clamorous  passions  of  his  heart  into 
subjection  would  be  a  grand  and  heroic  thing.  If 
from  the  yielding  mire  of  his  present  self  a  noble  and 
granite-like  character  could  be  built  up,  so  strongly 
and  on  such  a  sure  foundation  that  it  would  stand 
the  shocks  of  time  and  eternity,  it  were  worth  every 
effort  of  which  human  nature  is  capable.  Until 
Mrs.  Arnot  had  spoken  her  wise  and  kind,  yet  hon 
est  words,  he  had  felt  himself  unable  to  stand  erect, 
much  less  to  enter  ©n  a  struggle  which  would  tax  the 
strongest.  . 

But  suppose  God  would  deign  to  help,  suppose  it 
was  the  divine  purpose  and  practice  to  supplement  the 
feeble  efforts  of  those  who,  like  himself,  sought  to  ally 
their  weakness  to  his  strength,  might  not  the  Creator 
and  the  creature,  the  Father  and  the  child,  unitedly 
achieve  what  it  were  hopeless  to  attempt  unaided  ? 


3I2 


KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


Thoughts  like  these  more  or  less  distinctly  had 
been  thronging  his  mind  during  the  morning,  and 
though  the  path  out  of  .his  degradation  was  obscure 
and  uncertain,  it  had  seemed  the  only  way  of  escape. 
He  knew  that  Mrs.  Arnot  would  not  consciously 
mock  him  with  delusive  hopes,  and  as  she  spoke  her 
words  seemed  to  have  the  ring  and  echo  of  truth. 
When  the  courage  to  attempt  better  things  was, 
reviving,  it  was  sad  that  he  should  receive  the  first 
disheartening  blow  from  his  mother.  Not  that  she 
purposed  any  such  cruel  stroke ;  but  when  one  com 
mences  wrong  in  life  one  is  apt  to  go  on  making  mis 
chief  to  the  end.  Poor  Mrs.  Haldane's  kindness  and 
severity  had  always  been  ill-timed. 

For  some  hours,  as  will  be  seen,  the  contents  of 
the  mother's  letter  inspired  only  resentment  and 
caused  discouragement ;  but  calmer  thoughts  ex 
plained  the  letter,  and  confirmed  Mrs.  Arnot's  words, 
that  he  had  given  the  "  greatest  provocation." 

At  the  same  time  the  young  man  instinctively  felt 
that  if  he  attempted  the  knightly  effort  that  Mrs. 
Arnot  had  so  earnestly  urged,  his  mother  could  not 
help  him  much,  and  might  be  a  hindrance.  Her 
views  would  be  so  conventional,  and  she  would  be 
so  impatient  of  any  methods  that  were  not  in  ac 
cordance  with  her  ideas  of  respectability,  that  she 
might  imperil  every  thing  should  he  yield  to  her 
guidance.  If,  therefore,  he  could  obtain  the  means 
of  subsistence  he  resolved  to  remain  in  Hillaton, 
where  he  could  occasionally  see  Mrs.  Arnot.  She 
had  been  able  to  inspire  the  hope  of  a  better  life,  and 
she  could  best  teach  him  how  such  a  life  was  possible 


THE  LOW   STARTING-POINT.  313 

The  next  day  circumstances  prevented  Mrs.  Ar- 
not  from  visiting  the  prison,  and  Haldane  employed 
part  of  the  time  in  writing  to  his  mother  a  letter  of 
"mingled  reproaches  and  apologies,  interspersed  with 
vague  hopes  and  promises  of  future  amendment,  end 
ing,  however,  with  the  positive  assurance  that  he 
would  not  leave  Hillaton  unless  compelled  to  do  so 
by  hunger. 

To  Mrs.  Haldane  this  letter  was  only  an  aggrava 
tion  of  former  misconduct,  and  a  proof  of  the  un 
natural  and  impracticable  character  of  her  son.  The 
fact  that  it  was  written  from  a  prison  was  hideous,  to 
begin  with.  That,  after  all  the  pains  at  which  she 
had  been  to  teach  him  what  was  right,  he  could  sug 
gest  that  she  was  in  part  to  blame  for  his  course, 
seemed  such  black  ingratitude  that  his  apologies  and 
acknowledgments  of  wrong,  went  for  nothing.  She 
quite  overlooked  the  hope,  expressed  here  and  there, 
that  he  might  lead  a  very  different  life  in  the  future. 
His  large  and  self-confident  assurances  made  before 
had  come  to  naught,  and  she  had  not  the  tact  to 
see  that  he  would  make  this  attempt  in  a  different 
spirit. 

It  was  not  by  any  means  a  knightly,  or  even  a 
manly  letter  that  he  wrote  to  his  mother;  it  was  as 
confused  as  his  own  chaotic  moral  nature ;  but  if 
Mrs.  Haldane  had  had  a  little  more  of  Mrs.  Arnot's 
intuition,  and  less  of  prejudice,  she  might  have  seen 
scattered  through  it  very  hopeful  indications.  But 
even  were  such  indications  much  more  plain,  her 
anger,  caused  by  his  refusal  to  leave  Hillaton,  and  the 
belief  that  he  would  continue  to  disgrace  himself  and 
14 


314     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

her,  would  have  blinded  her  to  them.     Under  the  in 
fluence  of  this  anger  she  sat  down  and  wrote  at  once: 

Since  you  cast  off  your  mother  for  strangers — since  you  attempt 
again  what  you  have  proved  yourself  incapable  of  accomplishing — 
since  you  prefer  to  go  out  of  jail  to  be  a  vagrant  and  a  criminal  in 
the  streets,  instead  of  accepting  my  offer  to  live  a  respectable  and  se 
cluded  life  where  your  shame  is  unknown,  I  wash  my  hands  of  you, 
and  shall  take  pains  to  let  it  be  understood  that  I  am  no  longer  re 
sponsible  for  you  or  your, actions.  You  must  look  to  strangers  solely 
until  you  can  conform  your  course  to  the  will  of  the  one  you  have  so 
greatly  wronged. 

Haldane  received  this  letter  on  the  morning  of 
the  day  which  would  again  give  him  freedom.  Mrs. 
Arnot  had  visited  him  from  time  to  time,  and  had 
been  pleased  to  find  him,  as  a  general  thing,  in  a 
better  and  more  promising  mood.  He  had  been 
eager  to  listen  to  all  that  she  had  to  say,  and  he 
seemed  honestly  bent  on  reform.  And  yet,  while 
hopeful,  she  was  not  at  all  sanguine  as  to  his  future. 
He  occasionally  gave  way  to  fits  of  deep  despon 
dency,  and  again  was  over-confident,  while  the  causes 
of  these  changes  were  not  very  apparent,  and  seem 
ingly  resulted  more  from  temperament  than  any 
thing  else.  She  feared  that  the  bad  habits  of  long 
standing,  combining  with  his  capricious  and  impulsive 
nature,  would  speedily  betray  him  into  his  old  ways. 
She  was  sure  this  would  be  the  case  unless  the  strong 
and  steady  hand  of  God  sustained  him,  and  she  had 
tried  to  make  him  realize  the  same  truth.  This  he 
did  in  a  measure,  and  was  exceedingly  distrustful ; 
and  yet  he  had  not  been  able  to  do  much  more  than 
hope  God  would  help  him — for  to  any  thing  like 
trustful  confidence  he  was  still  a  stranger. 


THE  LOW  STARTING-POINT. 


315 


The  future  was  very  dark  and  uncertain  ;  what  he 
was  to  do,  how  he  was  to  live,  he  could  not  foresee. 
Even  the  prison  seemed  almost  a  refuge  from  the 
world,  out  into  which  he  would  be  thrown  that  day, 
as  one  might  be  cast  from  a  ship,  to  sink  or  swim,  as 
the  case  might  be. 

While  eager  to  receive  counsel  and  advice  from 
Mrs.  Arnot,  he  felt  a  peculiar  reluctance  to  take  any 
pecuniary  assistance,  and  he  fairly  dreaded  to  have 
her  offer  it  ;  still,  it  might  be  all  that  would  stand 
between  him  and  hunger. 

After  receiving  his  mother's  harsh  reply  to  his 
letter,  his  despondency  was  too  great  even  for  anger. 
He  was  ashamed  of  his  weakness  and  discourage 
ment,  and  felt  that  they  were  unmanly,  and  yet 
was  powerless  to  resist  the  leaden  depression  that 
weighed  him  down. 

Mrs.  Arnot  had  promised  to  call  just  before  his 
release,  and  when  she  entered  his  cell  she  at  once 
saw  that  something  was  amiss.  In  reply  to  her 
questioning  he  gave  her  the  letter  just  received. 

After  reading  it  -Mrs.  Arnot  did  not  speak  for 
some  time,  and  her  face  wore  a  sad,  pained  look. 

At  last  she  said,  "  You  both  misunderstand  each 
other  ;  but,  Egbert,  you  have  no  right  to  cherish  re 
sentment.  Your  mother  sincerely  believes  your 
course  is  all  wrong,  and  that  it  will  end  worse  than 
before.  I  think  she  is  mistaken.  And  yet  perhaps 
she  is  right,  and  it  will  be  easier  for  you  to  com 
mence  your  better  and  reformed  life  in  the  seclusion 
which  she  suggests.  I  am  sorry  to  say  it  to  you, 
Egbert,  but  I  have  not  been  able  to  find  any  em- 


316     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

ployment  for  you  such  as  you  would  take,  or  I 
would  be  willing  to  have  you  accept.  Perhaps 
Providence  points  to  submission  to  your  mother's 
will." 

"  If  so,  then  I  lose  what  little  faith  I  have  in 
Providence,"  he  replied  impetuously.  "  It  is  here, 
in  this  city,  that  I  have  fallen  and  disgraced  myself, 
and  it  is  here  I  ought  to  redeem  myself,  if  I  ever 
do.  Weeks  ago,  in  pride  and  self-confidence,  I 
made  the  effort,  and  failed  miserably,  as  might  have 
been  expected.  Instead  of  being  a  gifted  and  bril 
liant  man,  as  I  supposed,  that  had  b.een  suddenly 
brought  under  a  cloud  as  much  through  misfortune 
as  fault,  I  have  discovered  myself  to  be  a  weak, 
commonplace,  illiterate  fellow,  strong  only  in  bad 
passions  and  bad  habits.  Can  I  escape  these  pas 
sions  and  habits  by  going  elsewhere  ?  You  have 
told  me,  in  a  way  that  excited  my  hope,  of  God's 
power  and  willingness  to  help  such  as  I  am.  If  he 
will  not  help  me  here,  he  will  not  anywhere  ;  and 
if,  with  his  aid,  I  cannot  surmount  the  obstacles  in 
my  way  here,  what  is  God's  promised  help  but  a 
phrase  which  means  nothing,  and  what  are  we  but 
victims  of  circumstances  ?  " 

"  Are  you  not  reaching  conclusions  rather  fast, 
Egbert?  You  forget  that  I  and  myriads  of  others 
have  had  proof  of  God's  power  and  willingness  to 
help.  If  wide  and  varied  experienced  can  settle  any 
fact,  this  one  has  been  settled.  But  we  should  ever 
remember  that  we  are  not  to  dictate  the  terms  on 
which  he  is  to  help  us." 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  do  this,"  said  Haldane  eagerly, 


THE  LOW  STARTING-POINT.  317 

"  but  I  have  a  conviction  that  I  ought  to  remain  in 
Hillaton.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Mrs.  Arnot,  I  am 
afraid  to  go  elsewhere,"  he  added  in  a  low  tone, 
while  tears  suffused  his  eyes.  "  You  are  the  only 
friend  in  the  universe  that  I  am  sure  cares  for  me, 
or  that  I  can  trust  without  misgivings.  To  me  God 
is  yet  but  little  more  than  a  name,  and  one  that 
heretofore  I  have  either  forgotten  or  feared.  You 
have  led  me  to  hope  that  it  might  be  otherwise 
some  day,  but  it  is  not  so  yet,  and  I  dare  not  go 
away  alone  where  no  one  cares  for  me,  for  I  feel 
sure  that  I  would  give  way  to  utter  despondency, 
and  recklessness  would  follow  as  a  matter  of  course." 

"  O  Egbert,"  sighed  Mrs.  Arnot,  "  how  weak  you 
are,  and  how  foolish,  in  trusting  so  greatly  in  a  mere 
fellow-creature." 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Arnot,  *  weak  and  foolish/  Those  two 
words  now  seem  to  sum  up  my  whole  life  and  all 
there  is  of  me." 

"  And  yet,"  she  added  earnestly,  "  if  you  will,  you 
can  still  achieve  a  strong  and  noble  character.  O 
that  you  had  the  courage  and  heroic  faith  in  God  to 
fight  out  this  battle  to  the  end  !  Should  you  do  so, 
as  I  told  you  before,  you  would  be  my  ideal  knight. 
Heaven  would  ring  with  your  praise,  however  un 
friendly  the  world  might  be.  I  cannot  conceive  of 
a  grander  victory  than  that  of  a  debased  nature  over 
itself.  If  you  should  win  such  a  victory,  Egbert — if, 
in  addition,  you  were  able,  by  the  blessing  of  God  on 
your  efforts,  to  build  up  a  strong,  true  character — I 
would  honor  you  above  other  men,  even  though  you 
remained  a  wood-sawyer  all  your  days,"  and  her 


318     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

dark  eyes  became  lustrous  with  deep  feeling  as  she 
spoke. 

Haldane  looked  at  her  fixedly  for  a  moment,  and 
grew  very  pale.  He  then  spoke  slowly  and  in  a  low 
tone : 

"  To  fail  after  what  you  have  said  and  after  all 
your  kindness  would  be  terrible.  To  continue  my 
old  vile  self,  and  also  remember  the  prospect  you 
now  hold  out — what  could  be  worse  ?  And  yet  what 
I  shall  do,  what  I  shall  be,  God  only  knows.  But  in 
sending  you  to  me  I  feel  that  he  has  given  me  one 
more  chance." 

"  Egbert,"  she  replied  eagerly,  "  God  will  give  you 
chances  as  long  as  you  breathe.  Only  the  devil  will 
tell  you  to  despair.  He,  never.  Remember  this 
should  you  grow  old  in  sin.  To  tell  you  the  truth, 
however,  as  J  see  you  going  out  into  the  world  so 
humbled,  so  self-distrustful,  I  have  far  more  hope  for 
you  than  when  you  first  left  this  place,  fully  assured 
that  you  were,  in  yourself,  sufficient  for  all  your  pe 
culiar  difficulties.  And  now,  once  more,  good-by, 
for  a  time.  I  will  do  every  thing  I  can  for  you.  I 
have  seen  Mr.  Growther  to-day,  and  he  appears  very 
willing  that  you  should  return  to  his  house  for  the 
present.  Strange  old  man!  I  want  to  know  him 
better,  for  I  believe  his  evil  is  chiefly  on  the  outside, 
and  will  fall  off  some  day,  to  his  great  surprise." 


A    SACRED  REFRIGERATOR. 


3*9 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

A   SACRED   REFRIGERATOR. 

THE  glare  of  the  streets  was  intolerable  to  Hal- 
dane  after  his  confinement,  and  he  hastened 
through  them,  looking  neither  to  the  right  hand  nor 
to  the  left.  A  growl  from  Mr.  Growther's  dog  greeted 
him  as  he  entered,  and  the  old  man  himself  snarled, 

"  Well,  I  s'pose  you  stood  me  as  long  as  you 
could,  and  then  went  to  prison  for  a  while  for  a 
change." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Mr.  Growther ;  I  went  to  prison 
because  I  deserved  to  go  there,  and  it's  very  good 
of  you  to  let  me  come  back  again." 

"  No,  it  ain't  good  of  me,  nuther.  I  want  a  little 
peace  and  comfort,  and  how  could  I  have  'em  while 
you  was  bein'  kicked  and  cuffed  around  the  streets? 
Here,  I'll  get  you  some  dinner.  I  s'pose  they  only 
gave  you  enough  at  jail  to  aggravate  your  in'ards." 

."  No,  nothing  more,  please.  Isn't  there  some 
thing  I  can  do  ?  I've  sat  still  long  enough." 

Mr.  Growther  looked  at  him  a  moment,  and  then 
said, 

"  Are  you  sayin'  that  because  you  mean  it  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Would  you  mind  helpin'  me  make  a  little  gar- 


320     KNIGHT   OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

den?  I  know  I  ought  to  have  done  it  long  ago,  but 
I'm  one  of  those  'crastinating  cusses,  and  rheumatic 
in  the  bargain." 

"  I'll  make  your  garden  on  the  one  condition  that 
you  stand  by  and  boss  the  job." 

"  O,  I'm  good  at  bossin',  if  nothing  else.  There 
ain't  much  use  of  plantin'  any  thing,  though,  for 
every  pesky  bug  and  worm  in  town  will  start  for  my 
patch  as  soon  as  they  hear  on't." 

"  I  suppose  they  come  on  the  same  principle  that 
I  do." 

"  They  hain't  so  welcome — the  cussed  little  var 
mints  !  Some  on  'em  are  so  blasted  mean  that  I  know 
I  ought  to  be  easier  on  'em  just  out  of  feller  feelin'. 
Them  cut-worms  now — if  they'd  only  take  a  plant  and 
satisfy  their  nateral  appetites  on  it,  it  would  go  a  good 
ways,  and  the  rest  o'  the  plants  would  have  a  chance 
to  grow  out  of  harm's  way  ;  but  the  nasty  little 
things  will  jest  eat  'em  off  above  the  ground,  as  if 
they  was  cut  in  two  by  a  knife,  and  then  go  on  to 
anuther.  That's  what  I  call  a  mean  way  of  gettin'  a 
livin* ;  but  there's  lots  of  people  like  'em  in  town, 
who  spile  more  than  they  eat.  Then  there's  the 
squash-bug.  If  it's  his  nater  to  eat  up  the  vines  I 
s'pose  he  must  do  it,  but  why  in  thunder  must  he 
smell  bad  enough  to  knock  you  over  into  the  bar 
gain  ?  It's  allers  been  my  private  opinion  that  the 
devil  made  these  pests,  and  the  Lord  had  nothin'  to 
do  with  'em.  The  idea  that  he  should  create  a  rose, 
and  then  a  rose-bug  to  spile  it,  ain't  reconcilable  to 
what  little  reason  I've  got." 

"  Well,"    replied   Haldane   with  a  glimmer  of  a 


A    SACRED  REFRIGERATOR. 


321 


smile,  "  I  cannot  account  for  rose-bugs  and  a  good 
many  worse  things.  I  notice,  however,  that  in  spite 
of  all  these  enemies  people  manage  to  raise  a  great 
deal  that's  very  nice  every  year.  Suppose  we  try 
it." 

They  were  soon  at  work,  and  Haldane  felt  the 
better  for  a  few  hours'  exercise  in  the  open  air. 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Arnot  brought  some  pa 
pers  which  she  said  a  legal  friend  wished  copied,  and 
she  left  with  them,  inclosed  in  an  envelope,  payment 
in  advance.  After  she  had  gone  Haldane  offered 
the  money  to  Mr.  Growther,  but  the  old  man  only 
growled, 

"  Chuck  it  in  a  drawer,  and  the  one  of  us  who 
wants  it  first  can  have  it." 

For  the  next  two  or  three  weeks  Mrs.  Arnot,  by 
.  the  dint  of  considerable  effort,  kept  up  a  supply  of 
MSS.,  of  which  copies  were  required,  and  she  sup 
plemented  the  prices  which  the  parties  concerned 
were  willing  to  pay.  Her  charitible  and  helpful 
habits  were  well  known  to  her  friends,  and  they  often 
enabled  her  thus  to  aid  those  to  whom  she  could  not 
give  money  direct.  But  this  uncertain  employment 
would  soon  fail,  and  what  her/n?/^-/  was  then  to  do 
she  could  not  foresee.  No  one  would  trust  him,  and 
no  one  cared  to  have  him  about  his  premises. 

But  in  the  meantime  the  young  man  was  thinking 
deeply  for  himself.  He  soon  concluded  not  to  make 
Mr.  Growther's  humble  cottage  a  hiding-place  ;  and 
he  commenced  walking  abroad  through  the  city  after 
the  work  of  the  da}r.  He  assumed  no  bravado,  but 
went  quietly  on  his  way  like  any  other  passer-by. 
14* 


322 


KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


The  majority  of  those  who  knew  who  he  was  either 
ignored  his  existence,  or  else  looked  curiously  after 
him,  but  some  took  pains  to  manifest  their  con 
tempt.  He  could  not  have  been  more  lonely  and 
isolated  if  he  were  walking  a  desert. 

Among  the  promises  he  had  made  Mrs.  Arnot 
was  that  he  would  attend  church,  and  she  naturally 
asked  him  to  come  to  her  own. 

"  As  you  feel  toward  my  husband,  it  will  probably 
not  be  pleasant  for  you  to  come  to  our  pew,"  she 
had  said;  "but  I  hope  the  time  will  come  when  by 
gones  will  be  by-gones.  The  sexton,  however,  will 
give  you  a  seat,  and  our  minister  preaches  excellent 
sermons." 

Not  long  after,  true  to  his  word,  the  young  man 
went  a  little  early,  as  he  wished  to  be  as  unobtrusive 
as  possible.  At  the  same  time  there  was  nothing 
furtive  or  cringing  in  his  nature.  As  he  had  openly 
done  wrong,  he  was  now  resolved  to  try  as  openly 
to  do  right,  and  let  people  ascribe  whatever  motive 
they  chose. 

But  his  heart  misgave  him  as  he  approached 
the  new  elegant  church  on  the  most  fashionable 
street.  He  felt  that  his  clothes  were  not  in  keep 
ing  with  either  the  place  of  worship  or  the  wor 
shipers. 

Mr.  Arnot's  confidential  clerk  was  talking  with 
the  sexton  as  .he  hesitatingly  mounted  the  granite 
steps,  and  he  saw  that  dignified  functionary,  who 
seemed  in  some  way  made  to  order  with  the  church 
over  which  he  presided,  eye  him  askance  while  he 
lent  an  ear  to  what  was  evidently  a  bit  of  his  his- 


A    SACRED  REFRIGERATOR. 


323 


tory.  Walking  quietly  but  firmly  up  to  the  official, 
Haldane  asked, 

"  Will  you  give  me  a  seat,  sir?  " 

The  man  reddened,  frowned,  and  then  said, 

"  Really,  sir 'our  seats  are  generally  taken  Sunday 
mornings.  I  think  you  will  feel  more  at  home  at 
our  mission  chapel  in  Guy  street." 

"  And  among  the  guys,  why  don't  you  add?" 
retorted  Haldane,  his  old  spirit  flashing  up,  and  he 
turned  on  his  heel  and  stalked  back  to  Mr.  Grow- 
ther's  cottage. 

"  Short  sermon  to-day,"  said  the  old  man  starting 
out  of  a  doze. 

Haldane  told  him  of  his  reception. 

The  wrinkles  in  the  quaint  visage  of  his  host  grew 
deep  and  complicated,  as  though  he  had  tasted  some 
thing  very  bitter,  and  he  remarked  sententiously, 

"  If  Satan  could  he'd  pay  that  sexton  a  whoppin* 
sum  to  stand  at  the  door  and  keep  sinners  out." 

"  No  need  of  the  devil  paying  him  any  thing;  the 
well-dressed  Christians  see  to  that.  As  I  promised 
Mrs.  Arnot  to  come,  I  tried  to  keep  my  word,  but 
this  flunky's  face  and  manner  alone  are  enough  to 
turn  away  such  as  I  am.  None  but  the  eminently 
respectable  need  apply  at  that  gate  of  heaven.  If 
it  were  not  for  Mrs.  Arnot  I  would  believe  the  whole 
thing  a  farce." 

"  Is  Jesus  Christ  a  farce?"  asked  the  practical  Mr. 
Growther,  testily.  "  What  is  the  use  of  jumping 
five  hundred  miles  from  the  truth  because  you've 
happened  to  run  afoul  of  some  of  those  Pharisees 
that  he  cussed?" 


324     KNIGHT  OF    THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Haldane  laughed  and  said,  "  You  have  a  matter-of- 
fact  way  of  putting  things  that  there  is  no  escaping. 
It  will,  probably,  do  me  more  good  to  stay  home 
and  read  the  Bible  to  you  than  to  be  at  church." 

The  confidential  clerk,  who  had  remained  gos 
siping  in  the  vestibule,  thought  the  scene  he  had 
witnessed  worth  mentioning  to  his  employer,  who 
entered  with  Mrs.  Arnot  not  very  long  after,  and 
lingered  for  a  word  or  two.  The  man  of  business 
smiled  grimly,  and  passed  on.  He  usually  attended 
church  once  a  '  day,  partly  from  habit  and  partly 
because  it  was  the  respectable  thing  to  do.  He  had 
been  known  to  remark  that  he  never  lost  any  thing 
by  it,  for  some  of  his  most  successful  moves  sug 
gested  themselves  to  his  mind  during  the  monotony 
of  the  service. 

To  annoy  his  wife,  and  also  to  gratify  a  disposition 
to  sneer  at  the  faults  of  Christians,  Mr.  Arnot,  at 
the  dinner,  commenced  to  ironically  commend  the 
sexton's  course. 

"  A  most  judicious  man!"  he  affirmed.  "Saint 
Peter  himself  at  the  gate  could  not  more  accurately 
strain  out  the  saints  from  the  sinners — nay,  he  is 
even  keener-eyed  than  Saint  Peter,  for  he  can  tell 
first-class  from  second-class  saints.  Though  our 
church  is  not  full,  I  now  understand  why  we  have  a 
mission  chapel.  You  may  trust  '  Jeems '  to  keep  out 
all  but  the  very  first  class — those  who  can  exchange 
silk  and  broadcloth  for  the  white  robe.  But  what 
on  earth  could  have  brought  about  such  a  speedy 
transition  from  jail  to  church  on  the  part  of  Hal 
dane?" 


A    SACRED  REFRIGERATOR.  325 

"  I  invited  him,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  in  a  pained 
tone;  "  but  I  did  not  think  it  would  be  to  meet 
with  insult." 

"  Insult  !  Quite  the  reverse.  I  should  think  that 
such  as  he  ought  to  feel  it  an  honor  to  be  permitted 
a  place  among  the  second-class  saints." 

Mrs.  Arnot's  thoughts  were  very  busy  that  after 
noon.  She  was  not  by  nature  an  innovator,  and, 
indeed,  was  inclined  to  accept  the  established  order 
of  things  without  very  close  questioning.  Her  Chris 
tian  life  had  been  developed  chiefly  by  circumstances 
purely  personal,  and  she  had  unconsciously  found 
walks  of  usefulness  apart  from  the  organized  church 
work.  But  she  was  a  devout  worshiper  and  a  careful 
listener  to  the  truth.  It  had  been  her  custom  to  ride 
to  the  morning  service,  and,  as  they  resided  some 
distance  from  the  church,  to  remain  at  home  in  the 
evening,  giving  all  in  her  employ  a  chance  to  go  out. 

Concerning  the  financial  affairs  of  the  church  she 
was  kept  well  informed,  for  she  was  a  liberal  con 
tributor,  and  also  to  all  other  good  causes  presented. 
From  earliest  years  her  eye  had  always  been  accus 
tomed  to  the  phases  presented  by  a  fashionable 
church,  and  every  thing  moved  forward  so  quietly 
and  with  such  sacred  decorum  that  the  thought  of 
any  thing  wrong  did  not  occur  to  her. 

But  the  truth  that  one  who  was  endeavoring  to 
lead  a  better  life  had  been  practically  turned  from 
the  door  of  God's  house  seemed  to  her  a  monstrous 
thing.  How  much  truth  was  there  in  her  husband's 
sarcasm?  How  far  did  her  church  represent  the 
accessible  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  to  whom  all  were  wel- 


326     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

corned,  or  how  far  did  it  misrepresent  him  ?  Now 
that  her  attention  was  called  to  the  fact,  she  remem 
bered  that  the  congregation  was  chiefly  made  up 
of  the  elite  of  the  city,  and  that  she  rarely  had 
seen  any  one  present  who  did  not  clearly  present 
the  fullest  evidence  of  respectability.  Were  those 
whom  the  Master  most  emphatically  came  to  seek  and 
save  excluded?  She  determined  to  find  out  speedily. 
Summoning  her  coachman,  she  told  him  that  she 
wished  to  attend  church  that  evening.  She  dressed 
herself  very  plainly,  and  entered  the  church  closely 
vailed.  Instead  of  going  to  her  own  pew,  she  asked 
the  judicious  and  discriminating  sexton  for  a  seat. 
After  a  careless  glance  he  pointed  to  one  of  the 
seats  near  the  door,  and  turned  his  back  upon  her. 
A  richly  dressed  lady  and  gentleman  entered  soon 
after,  and  he  was  all  attention,  marshaling  them  up 
the  aisle  into  Mrs.  Arnot's  own  pew,  since  it  was 
known  she  did  not  occupy  it  in  the  evening.  A  few 
decent,  plain-looking  women,  evidently  sent  thither 
by  the  wealthy  families  in  whose  employ  they  were, 
came  in  hesitatingly,  and  those  who  did  not  take 
seats  near  the  entrance,  as  a  matter  of  course,  were 
motioned  thither  without  ceremony.  The  audience 
room  was  but  sparsely  filled,  large  families  being 
represented  by  one  or  two  members  or  not  at  all. 
But  Mrs.  Arnot  saw  none  of  Haldane's  class  present 
— none  who  looked  as  if  they  were  in  danger,  and 
needed  a  kind,  strong,  rescuing  hand — none  who 
looked  hungry  and  athirst  for  truth  because  per 
ishing  for  its  lack.  In  that  elegant  and  eminently 
respectable  place,  upholstered  and  decorated  with 


A    SACRED  REFRIGERATOR.  327 

faultless  taste,  there  was  not  a  hint  of  publicans  and 
sinners.  One  might  suppose  he  was  in  the  midst  of 
the  millennium,  and  that  the  classes  to  whom  Christ 
preached  had  all  become  so  thoroughly  converted 
that  they  did  not  even  need  to  attend  church. 
There  was  not  a  suggestion  of  the  fact  that  but  a 
few  blocks  away  enough  to  fill  the  empty  pews  were 
living  worse  than  heathen  lives. 

The  choir  performed  their  part  melodiously,  and  a 
master  in  music  could  have  found  no  fault  with  the 
technical  rendering  of  the  musical  score.  They  were 
paid  to  sing,  and  they  gave  to  such  of  their  em 
ployers  who  cared  to  be  present  every  note  as  it 
was  written,  in  its  full  value.  As  never  before,  it 
struck  Mrs.  Arnot  as  a  performance.  The  service 
she  had  attended  hitherto  was  partly  the  creation  of 
her  own  earnest  and  devotional  spirit.  To-night  she 
was  learning  to  know  the  service  as  it  really  existed. 

The  minister  was  evidently  a  conscientious  man, 
for  he  had  prepared  his  evening  discourse  for  his 
thin  audience  as  thoroughly  as  he  had  his  morning 
sermon.  Every  word  was  carefully  written  down, 
and  the  thought  of  the  text  was  exhaustively  devel 
oped.  But  Mrs.  Arnot  was  too  far  back  to  hear  well. 
The  poor  man  seemed  weary  and  discouraged  with 
the  arid  wastes  of  empty  seats  over  which  he  must 
scatter  the  seeds  of  truth  to  no  purpose.  He  looked 
dim  and  ghostly  in  the  far-away  pulpit,  and  in  spite 
of  herself  his  sermon  began  to  have  the  aspect  of  a 
paid  performance,  the  effect  of  which  would  scarcely 
be  more  appreciable  than  the  sighing  of  the  wind 
without.  The  keenest  theologian  could  not  detect 


328     KNIGHT  OF   THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

the  deviation  of  a  hair  from  the  received  orthodox 
views,  and  the  majority  present  were  evidently  satis 
fied  that  his  views  would  be  correct,  for  they  did 
not  give  very  ctose  attention.  The  few  plain  domes 
tics  near  her  dozed  and  nodded  through  the  hour, 
and  so  gained  some  physical  preparation  for  the  toils 
of  the  week,  but  their  spiritual  natures  were  as  clearly 
dormant  as  their  lumpish  bodies. 

After  the  service  Mrs.  Arnot  lingered,  to  see  if 
any  one  would  speak  to  her  as  a  stranger  and  ask 
her  to  come  again.  Such  was  clearly  not  the  habit 
of  the  congregation.  She  felt  that  her  black  vail,  an 
evidence  of  sorrow,  was  a  sort  of  signal  of  distress 
which  ought  to  have  lured  some  one  to  her  side 
with  a  kind  word  or  two,  but  beyond  a  few  curious 
glances  she  was  unnoticed.  People  spoke  who  were 
acquainted,  who  had  been  introduced  to  each  other. 
As  the  worshipers  (?)  hastened  out,  glad  to  escape 
to  regions  where  living  questions  and  interests  exist 
ed,  the  sexton,  who  had  been  dozing  in  a  comfort 
able  corner,  bustled  to  the  far  end  of  the  church,  and 
commenced,  with  an  assistant,  turning  out  the  lights 
on  either  side  so  rapidly  that  it  seemed  as  if  a  wave 
of  darkness  was  following  those  who  had  come  thither 
ostensibly  seeking  light. 

Mrs.  Arnot  hastened  to  her  carnage,  where  it  stood 
urtder  the  obscuring  shadow  of  a  tree,  and  was  driven 
home  sad  and  indignant — most  indignant  at  herself 
that  she  had  been  so  absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts 
and  life  that  she  had  not  discovered  that  the  church 
to  build  and  sustain  which  she  had  given  so  liberally 
was  scarcely  better  than  a  costly  refrigerator. 


A  DOUBTFUL  BATTLE  IN  PROSPECT,        329 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

A  DOUBTFUL  BATTLE   IN   PROSPECT. 

% 

THE  painful  impression  made  by  the  evening 
service  that  has  been  described  acted  as  a  rude 
disenchantment,  and  the  beautiful  church,  to  which 
Mrs.  Arnot  had  returned  every  Sabbath  morning 
with  increasing  pleasure,  became  as  repulsive  -as  it 
had  been  sacred  and  attractive.  To  her  sincere  and 
earnest  spirit  any  thing  in  the  nature  of  a  sham  was 
peculiarly  offensive ;  and  what,  she  often  asked  her 
self,  could  be  more  un-Christlike  than  this  service 
which  had  been  held  in  his  name  ? 

The  revelation  so  astonished  and  disheartened  her 
that  she  was  prone  to  believe  that  there  was  some 
thing  exceptional  in  that  miserable  Sabbath  even 
ing's  experience,  and  she  determined  to  observe 
further  and  more  closely  before  taking  any  action. 
She  spoke  frankly  of  her  feelings  and  purposes  to 
Haldane,  and  in  so  doing  benefited  the  young  man 
very  much ;  for  he  was  thus  led  to  draw  a  sharp 
line  between  Christ  and  the  Christlike  and  that 
phase  of  Christianity  which  is  largely  leavened  with 
this  world.  No  excuse  was  given  him  to  jumble  the 
true  and  the  false  together. 

"  You  will  do  me  a  favor  if  you  will  quietly  enter 


330    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

the  church  next  Sunday  morning  and  evening,  and 
unobtrusively  take  one  of  the  seats  near  the  door," 
she  said  to  him.  "  I  wish  to  bring  this  matter  to  an 
issue  as  soon  as  possible.  If  you  could  manage  to 
enter  a  little  in  advance  of  me,  I  would  also  be  glad. 
I  know  how  Christ  received  sinners,  and  I  would  like 
to  see  how  we  who  profess  to  be  representing  him 
receive  those  who  come  to  his  house." 

Haldane  did  as  she  requested.  In  a  quiet  and 
perfectly  unobtrusive  manner  he  walked  up  the  gra 
nite  steps  into  the  vestibule,  and  his  coarse,  gray 
suit,  although  scrupulously  clean,  was  conspicuous 
in  its  contrast  with  the  elegant  attire  of  the  other 
worshipers.  He  himself  was  conspicuous  also;  for 
many  knew  who  he  was,  and  whispered  the  informa 
tion  to  others.  A  " jail-bird"  was,  indeed,  a  rara 
avis  in  that  congregation,  and  there  was  a  slight, 
but  perfectly  decorous,  sensation.  However  greatly 
these  elegant  people  might  lack  the  spirit  of  Him 
who  was  "  the  friend  of  publicans  and  sinners,"  they 
would  not  for  the  world  do  any  thing  that  was  overtly 
rude  or  ill-bred.  Only  the  official  sexton  frowned 
visibly  as  the  youth  took  a  seat  near  the  door. 
Others  looked  askance  or  glided  past  like  polished 
icicles.  Haldane's  teeth  almost  chattered  with  the 
cold.  He  felt  himself  oppressed,  and  almost  pushed 
out  of  the  house,  by  the  moral  atmosphere  created 
by  the  repellent  thoughts  of  some  who  apparently 
felt  the  place  defiled  by  his  presence.  Mrs.  Arnot, 
with  her  keen  intuition,  felt  this  atmosphere  also, 
and  detected  on  the  part  of  one  or  two  of  the  officers 
of  the  Church  an  unchristian  spirit.  Although  the 


A   DOUBTFUL  BATTLE  IN  PROSPECT.         331 

sermon  was  an  excellent  one  that  morning,  she  did 
not  hear  it. 

In  the  evening  a  lady  draped  in  a  black  vail  sat 
by  Haldane.  The  service  was  but  a  dreary  counter 
part  of  the  one  of  the  previous  Sabbath.  The  sky 
had  been  overcast  and  slightly  threatening,  and  still 
fewer  worshipers  had  ventured  out. 

Beyond  furtive  and  curious  glances  no  one  noticed 
them  save  the  sexton,  who  looked  and  acted  as  if 
Haldane's  continued  coming  was  a  nuisance,  which, 
in  some  way,  he  must  manage  to  abate. 

The  young  man  waited  for  Mrs.  Arnot  at  her  car 
riage-door,  and  said  as  he  handed  her  in  : 

'*  I  have  kept  my  word ;  but  please  do  not  .ask  me 
to  come  to  this  church  again-,  or  I  shall  turn  infidel." 

"  I  shall  not  come  myself  again,"  she  replied, 
"  unless  there  is  a  decided  change." 

The  next  morning  she  wrote  notes  to  two  of  the 
leading  officers  of  the  church,  asking  them  to  call 
that  evening ;  and  her  request  was  so  urgent  that 
they  both  came  at  the  appointed  hour. 

Mrs.  Arnot's  quiet  but  clear  and  distinct  statement 
of  the  evils  of  which  she  had  become  conscious 
greatly  surprised  and  annoyed  them.  They,  with 
their  associates,  had  been  given  credit  for  organizing 
and  "  running  "  the  most  fashionable  and  prosperous 
church  in  town.  An  elegant  structure  had  been 
built  and  paid  for,  and  such  a  character  given  the 
congregation  that  if  strangers  visited  or  were  about 
to  take  up  their  abode  in  the  city  they  were  made 
to  feel  that  the  door  of  this  church  led  to  social 
position  and  the  most  aristocratic  circles.  Of 


332     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

course,  mistakes  were  made.  People  sometimes 
elbowed  their  way  in  who  were  evidently  flaunting 
weeds  among  the  patrician  flowers,  and  occasionally 
plain,  honest,  but  somewhat  obtuse  souls  would 
come  as  to  a  Christian  church.  But  people  who 
were  "  not  desirable  " — the  meaning  of  this  phrase 
had  become  well  understood  in  Hillaton — were  gen 
erally  frozen  out  by  an  atmosphere  made  so  chilly, 
even  in  August,  that  they  were  glad  to  escape  to 
other  associations  less  benumbing.  Indeed,  it  was 
now  so  generally  recognized  that  only  those  of 
the  best  and  most  assured  social  position  were  "  de 
sirable,"  that  few  others  ventured  up  the  granite 
steps  or  sought  admittance  to  this  region  of  sacred 
respectability.  And  yet  all  this  had  been  brought 
about  so  gradually,  and  so  entirely  within  the  laws 
of  good  breeding  and  ecclesiastical  usage,  and  also 
under  the  most  orthodox  preaching,  that  no  one 
could  lay  his  finger  on  any  thing  upon  which  to  raise 
an  issue. 

The  result  was  just  what  these  officers  had  been 
working  for,  and  it  was  vexatious  indeed  that,  after 
years  of  successful  manipulation,  a  lady  of  Mrs.  Ar- 
not's  position  should  threaten  to  make  trouble. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Arnot,"  said  one  of  these  polished 
gentlemen,  with  a  suavity  that  was  designed  to  con 
ciliate,  but  which  was  nevertheless  tinged  with  philo 
sophical  dogmatism,  "  there  are  certain  things  that 
will  not  mix,  and  the  attempt  to  mingle  them  is 
wasting  time  on  the  impossible.  It  is  in  accordance 
with  the  laws  of  nature  that  each  class  should  draw 
together  according  to  their  affinities  and  social  sta- 


A  DOUBTFUL  BATTLE  IN  PROSPECT.         333 

tus.  Our  church  is  now  entirely  homogeneous,  and 
every  thing  moves  forward  without  any  friction." 

"  It  appears  to  me  sadly  machine-like,"  the  lady 
remarked. 

u  Indeed,  madam,"  with  a  trace  of  offended  dig 
nity,  "  is  not  the  Gospel  ably  preached  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  it  is  not  obeyed.  We  have  been  made 
homogeneous  solely  on  worldly  principles,  and  not 
on  those  taught  in  the  Gospels." 

They  could  not  agree,  as  might  have  been  sup 
posed,  and  Mrs.  Arnot  was  thought  to  be  unreason 
able  and  full  of  impracticable  theories. 

"Very  well,  gentlemen,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  with 
some  warmth,  "  if  there  can  be  no  change  in  these 
respects,  no  other  course  is  left  for  me  but  to  with 
draw  ;"  and  the  religious  politicians  bowed  them 
selves  out,  much  relieved,  feeling  that  this  was  the 
easiest  solution  of  the  question. 

Mrs.  Arnot  soon  after  wrote  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Bar- 
stow,  pastor  of  the  church,  for  a  letter  of  dismission. 
The  good  man  was  much  surprised  by  the  contents 
of  this  missive.  Indeed,  it  so  completely  broke  a 
chain  of  deep  theological  speculation,  that  he  desert 
ed  his  study  for  the  street.  Here  he  met  an  officer 
of  the  church,  a  man  somewhat  advanced  in  years, 
whom  he  had  come  to  regard  as  rather  reserved  and 
taciturn  in  disposition.  But  in  his  perplexity  he 
exhibited  Mrs.  Arnot's  letter,  and  asked  an  explana 
tion. 

"  Well,"  said  the  gentleman,  uneasily,  "  I  under 
stand  that  Mrs.  Arnot  is  dissatisfied,  and  perhaps 
she  has  some  reason  to  be." 


334     ANIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"Upon  what  grounds?"  asked  the  clergyman 
hastily. 

"  Suppose  we  call  upon  her,"  was  the  reply.  "  I 
would  rather  you  should  hear  her  reasons  from 
herself;  and,  in  fact,  I  would  be  glad  to  hear  them 
also." 

Half  an  hour  later  they  sat  in  Mrs.  Arnot's  parlor. 

"  My  dear  madam,"  said  Dr.  Barstow,  -'are  you 
willing  to  tell  us  frankly  what  has  led  to  the  request 
contained  in  this  letter ;  I  hope  that  I  am  in  no  way 
to  blame." 

"  Perhaps  we  have  all  been  somewhat  to  blame," 
replied  Mrs.  Arnot  in  a  tone  so  gentle  and  quiet  as 
to  prove  that  she  was  under  the  influence  of  no  un 
kindly  feeling  or  resentment;  "  at  least  I  feel  that  I 
have  been  much  to  blame  for  not  seeing  what  is 
now  but  too  plain.  But  habit  and  custom  deaden 
our  perceptions.  The  aspect  of  our  church  was  that 
of  good  society, — nothing  to  jar  upon  or  offend 
the  most  critical  taste.  Your  sermons  were  deeply 
thoughtful  and  profound,  and  I  both  enjoyed  and 
was  benefited  by  them.  I  came  and  went  wrapped 
up  in  my  own  spiritual  .life  and  absorbed  in  my  own 
plans  and  work,  when,  unexpectedly,  an  incident  oc 
curred  which  revealed  to  me  what  I  fear  is  the  animus 
and  character  of  our  church  organization.  I  can 
best  tell  you  what  I  mean  by  relating  my  experi 
ence  and  that  of  a  young  man  whom  I  have  every 
reason  to  believe  wishes  to  lead  a  better  life,  yes, 
even  a  Christian  life  ; "  ^and  she  graphically  por 
trayed  all  that  had  occurred,  and  the  impressions 
made  upon  her  by  the  atmosphere  she  had  found 


A   DOUBTFUL  BATTLE  IN  PROSPECT.        335 

prevalent,  when  she  placed  herself  in  the  attitude 
of  a  humble  stranger. 

"  And  now,"  she  said  in  conclusion,  "  do  we  rep 
resent  Christ,  or  are  we  so  leavened  by  the  world 
that  it  may  be  doubted  whether  he  would  acknowl 
edge  us?  " 

The  minister  shaded  his  pained  and  troubled  face 
with  his  hand. 

"  We  represent  the  world,"  said  the  church  officer 
emphatically ;  "  I  have  had  a  miserable  conscious 
ness  of  whither  we  were  drifting  for  a  long  time, 
but  every  thing  has  come  about  so  gradually  and 
so  properly,  as  it  were,  that  I  could  find  no  one 
thing  upon  which  I  could  lay  my  finger  and  say, 
This  is  wrong  and  I  protest  against  it.  Of  course, 
if  I  had  heard  'the  sexton  make  such  a  remark  to 
any  one  seeking  to  enter  the  house  of  God  as  was 
made  to  the  young  man  you  mention  I  should  have 
interfered.  And  yet  the  question  is  one  of  great 
difficulty.  Can  such  diverse-  classes  meet  on  com 
mon  ground?  " 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot  earnestly,  "  T  do 
not  think  we,  as  a  church,  are  called  upon  to  adjust 
these  diverse  classes,  and  to  settle,  on  the  Sabbath, 
nice  social  distinctions.  The  Head  of  the  Church  said, 
1  Whosoever  will,  let  him  come.'  We,  pretending  to 
act  in  his  name  and  by  his  authority,  say,  *  Whoso 
ever  is  sufficiently  respectable  and  well-dressed,  let 
him  come/  I  feel  that  I  cannot  any  longer  be  a 
party  to  this  perversion. 

"  If  we  would  preserve  our  right  to  be  known  as  a 
Christian  church  we  must  say  to  all,  to  the  poor,  to  the 


336    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

most  sinful  and  debased,  as  well  as  to  those  who  are 
now  welcomed,  '  Come ;  '  and  when  they  are  within 
our  walls  they  should  be  made  to  feel  that  the  house 
does  not  belong  to  an  aristocratic  clique,  but  rather 
to  Him  who  was  the  friend  of  publicans  and  sinners. 
Christ  adjusted  himself  to  the  diverse  classes.  Are 
we  his  superiors?" 

"  But,  my  dear  madame,  are  there  to  be  no  social 
distinctions?  " 

"  I  am  not  speaking  of  social  distinctions.  Birth, 
culture,  and  wealth  will  always,  and  very  properly, 
too,  make  great  differences.  In  inviting  people  to 
our  homes  we  may  largely  consult  our  own  tastes 
and  preferences,  and  neither  good  sense  nor  Christian 
duty  requires  that. there  should  be  intimacy  between 
those  unfitted  for  it  by  education  and  character.  But 
a  church  is  not  our  house,  but  God's  house,  and  what 
right  have  we  to  stand  in  the  door  and  turn  away 
those  whom  he  most  cordially  invites?  Christ  had 
his  beloved  disciple,  and  so  we  can  have  our  beloved 
and  congenial  friends.  But  there  were  none  too  low 
or  lowly  for  him  to  help  by  direct  personal  effort,  by 
sympathetic  contact,  and  I,  for  one,  dare  not  ignore 
his  example." 

"  Do  you  not  think  we  can  better  accomplish  this 
work  by  our  mission  chapel  ?" 

"  Where  is  your  precedent  ?  Christ  washed  the 
feet  of  fishermen  in  order  to  give  us  an  example  of 
humility,  and  to  teach  us  that  we  should  be  willing 
to  serve  any  one  in  his  name.  I  heartily  approve 
of  mission  chapels  as  outposts ;  but,  as  in  earthly 
warfare,  they  should  be  posts  of  honor,  posts  for  the 


A   DOUBTFUL  BATTLE  IN  PROSPECT.        337 

brave,  the  sagacious,  and  the  most  worthy.  If  they 
are  maintained  in  the  character  of  second-class  cars, 
they  are  to  that  extent  unchristian.  If  those  who 
are  gathered  there  are  to  be  kept  there  solely  on 
account  of  their  dress  and  humble  circumstances,  I 
would  much  prefer  taking  my  chances  of  meeting 
my  Master  with  them  than  in  the  church  which  practi 
cally  excludes  them. 

"  Christ  said,  '  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me 
in.'  I  came  to  our  church  as  a  stranger  twice.  I 
was  permitted  to  walk  in  and  walk  out,  but  no  one 
spoke  to  me,  no  one  invited  me  to  come  again.  It 
seems  to  me  that  I  would  starve  rather  than  enter  a 
private  house  where  I  was  so  coldly  treated.  I  have 
no  desire  for  startling  innovations.  I  simply  wish  to 
unite  myself  with  a  church  that  is  trying  to  imitate 
the  example  of  the  Master,  and  where  all,  whatever 
may  be  their  garb  or  social  and  moral  character,  are 
cordially  invited  and  sincerely  welcomed." 

Dr.  Barstow  now  removed  his  hand  from  his  face. 
It  was  pale,  but  its  expression  was  resolute  and 
noble. 

"  Mrs.  Arnot,  permit  me  to  say  that  you  are  both 
right  and  wrong,"  he  said.  "  Your  views  of  what  a 
church  should  be  are  right ;  you  are  wrong  in  wish 
ing  to  withdraw  before  having  patiently  and  pray 
erfully  sought  to  inculcate  a  true  Christian  spirit 
among  those  to  whom  you  owe  and  have  promised 
Christian  fidelity.  You  know  that  I  have  not  very 
long  been  the  pastor  of  this  church,  but  I  have 
already  felt  that  something  was  amiss.  I  have  been 
oppressed  and  benumbed  with  a  certain  coldness 


338  .KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

and  formality  in  our  church  life.  At  the  same  time 
I  admit,  with  contrition,  that  I  have  given  way  to 
my  besetting  sin.  I  am  naturally  a  student,  and 
when  once  in  my  study  I  forget  the  outside  world. 
I  am  prone  to  become  wholly  occupied  with  the 
thought  of  my  text,  and  to  forget  those  for  whom 
I  am  preparing  my  discourse.  I,  too,  often  think 
more  of  the  sermon  than  of  the  people,  forgetting 
the  end  in  the  means,  and  thus  I  fear  I  was  becom 
ing  but  a  voice,  a  religious  philosophy,  among  them, 
instead  of  a  living  and  a  personal  power.  You  have 
been  awakened  to  the  truth,  Mrs.  Arnot,  and  you 
have  awakened  me.  I  do  not  feel  equal  to  the  task 
which  I  clearly  foresee  before  me  ;  I  may  fail  miser 
ably,  but  I  shall  no  longer  darken  counsel  with  many 
words.  You  have  given  me  much  food  for  thought ; 
and  while  I  cannot  foretell  the  end,  I  think  present 
duty  will  be  made  clear.  In  times  of  perplexity  it  is 
our  part  to  do  what  seems  right,  asking  God  for 
guidance,  and  then  leave  the  consequences  to  him. 
One  thing  seems  plain  to  me,  however,  that  it  is 
your  present  duty  to  remain  with  us,  and  give  your 
prayers  and  the  whole  weight  of  your  influence  on 
the  side  of  reform." 

"  Dr.  Barstow,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  her  face  flushing 
slightly,  "  you  are  right ;  you  are  right.  I  have  been 
hasty,  and,  while  condemning  others,  was  acting 
wrong-  myself.  You  have  shown  the  truer  Christian 
spirit.  I  will  remain  while  there  is  any  hope  of  a 
change  for  the  better." 

.  "Well,  Mrs.  Arnot,"  said  Mr.  Blakeman,  the 
elderly  church  officer,  "  I  have  drawn  you  out 


A   DOUBTFUL  BATTLE  IN  PROSPECT. 


339 


partly  to  get  your  views  and  partly  to  get  some 
clearer  views  myself.  I,  too,  am  with  you,  doctor, 
in  this  struggle ;  but  I  warn  you  both  that  we  shall 
have  a  hot  time  before  we  thaw  the  ice  out  of  our 
church." 

"  First  pure,  and  then  peaceable,"  said  the  minis 
ter  slowly  and  musingly ;  and  then  they  separated, 
each  feeling  somewhat  as  soldiers  who  are  about 
to  engage  in  a  severe  and  doubtful  battle. 


340    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

A   FOOT-HOLD. 

THE  skies  did  not  brighten  for  Haldane,  and  he 
remained  perplexed  and  despondent.  When 
one  wishes  to  reform,  every  thing  does  not  become 
lovely  in  this  unfriendly  world.  The  first  steps  are 
usually  the  most  difficult,  and  the  earliest  experi 
ence  the  most  disheartening.  God  never  designed 
that  reform  should  be  easy.  As  it  is,  people  are 
too  ready  to  live  the  life  which  renders  reform 
necessary.  The  ranks  of  the  victims  of  evil  would 
be  doubled  did  not  a  wholesome  fear  of  the  conse 
quences  restrain. 

Within  a  few  short  weeks  the  fortunes  of  the 
wealthy  and  self-confident  youth  had  altered  so 
greatly  that  now  he  questioned  whether  the  world 
would  give  him  bread,  except  on  conditions  that 
were  painfully  repugnant. 

There  was  his  mother's  offer,  it  is  true ;  but  had 
Mrs.  Haldane  considered  the  nature  of  this  offer, 
even  she  could  scarcely  have  made  it.  Suppose  he 
tried  to  follow  out  his  mother's  plan,  and  went  to 
a  city  where  he  was  unknown,  could  she  expect  an 
active  young  fellow  to  go  to  an  obscure  boarding- 
house,  and  merely  eat  and  sleep?  By  an  inevitable 
law  the  springing  forces  of  his  nature  must  find 


A   FOOT-HOLD.  341 

employment  either  in  good  or  evil.  If  he  sought 
employment  of  any  kind,  the  question  would  at 
once  arise,  "  Who  are  you  ?  "  and  sooner  or  later 
would  come  his  history.  In  his  long,  troubled  reve 
ries  he  thought  of  all  this,  and  the  prospect  of  vege 
tating  in  dull  obscurity  at  his  mother's  expense  was 
as  pleasant  as  that  of  being  buried  alive. 

Moreover,  he  could  not  endure  to  leave  Hillaton 
in  utter  defeat.  He  was  prostrate,  and  felt  the  foot 
of  adverse  fate  upon  his  neck,  but  he  would  not  ac 
knowledge  himself  conquered.  If  he  could  regain 
his  feet  he  would  renew  the  struggle ;  and  he  hoped 
in  some  way  to  do  so.  As  yet,  however,  the  future 
was  a  wall  of  darkness. 

Neither  did  he  find  any  rest  for  his  spiritual  feet. 
For  some  reason  he  could  not  grasp  the  idea  of  a 
personal  God  who  cared  enough  for  him  to  give  any 
practical  help.  In  spite  of  all  that  Mrs.  Arnot  could 
say,  his  heart  remained  as  cold  and  heavy  as  a  stone 
within  his  breast. 

But  to  some  extent  he  could  appreciate  the  pic 
ture  she  had  presented.  He  saw  one  who,  through 
weakness  and  folly,  had  fallen  into  the  depths  of 
degradation,  patiently  and  bravely  fighting  his  way 
up  to  a  true  manhood  ;  and  he  had  been  made  to 
feel  that  it  was  such  a  noble  thing  to  do  that  he 
longed  to  accomplish  it.  Whether  he  could  or  no 
he  was  not  sure,  for  his  old  confidence  was  all  gone. 
But  he  daily  grew  more  bent  on  making  an  honest 
trial,  and  in  this  effort  a  certain  native  persistency 
and  unwillingness  to  yield  would  be  of  much  help 
to  him. 


342     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

He  was  now  willing,  also,  to  receive  any  aid  which 
self-respect  permitted  him  to  accept,  and  was  grate 
ful  for  the  copying  obtained  for  him  by  Mrs.  Arnot. 
But  she  frankly  told  him  that  it  would  not  last  long. 
The  question  what  he  should  do  next  pressed  heavily 
upon  him. 

As  he  was  reading  the  paper  to  Mr.  Growther  one 
evening,  his  eye  caught  an  advertisement  which 
stated  that  more  hands  were  needed  at  a  certain 
factory  in  the  suburbs.  He  felt  sure  that  if  he  pre 
sented  himself  in  the  morning  with  the  others  he 
would  be  refused,  and  he  formed  the  bold  purpose 
of  going  at  once  to  the  manufacturer.  Having 
found  the  stately  residence,  he  said  to  the  servant 
who  answered  his  summons, 

"  Will  you  say  to  Mr.  Ivison  that  a  person  wishes 
to  see  him? " 

The  maid  eyed  him  critically,  and  concluded,  from 
his  garb,  to  leave  him  standing  in  the  hall. 

Mr.  Ivison  left  his  guests  in  the  parlor  and  came 
out,  annoyed  at  the  interruption. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  wish,  sir  ?  "  he  said,  in  a  tone  that 
was  far  from  being  encouraging,  at  the  same  time  gain 
ing  an  unfavorable  impression  from  Haldane's  dress. 

"  In  the  evening  paper  you  advertised  for  more 
hands  in  your  factory.  I  wish  employment." 

"  Are  you  drunk,  or  crazy,  that  you  thus  apply  at 
my  residence?"  was  the  harsh  reply. 

"Neither,  sir;  I — " 

"You  are  very  presuming,  then." 

"You  would  not  employ  me  if  I  came  in  the 
morning." 


A   FOOT-HOLD.  343 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?     Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  at  least  human.  Can  you  give  one  or  two 
moments  to  the  consideration  of  my  case?" 

"  One  might  afford  that  much/'  said  the  gentle 
man  with  a  half-apologetic  laugh ;  for  the  pale  face 
and  peculiar  bearing  of  the  stranger  were  beginning 
to  interest  him. 

"  I  do  not  ask  more  of  your  time,  and  will  come 
directly  to  the  point.  My  name  is  Haldane,  and,  as 
far  as  I  am  concerned,  you  know  nothing  good  con 
cerning  me." 

"  You  are  correct,"  said  Mr.  Ivison  coldly.  "  I 
shall  not  need  your  services." 

"  Mr.  Ivison,"  said  Haldane  in  a  tone  that  made 
the  gentleman  pause,  "  ought  I  to  be  a  thief  and  a 
vagabond?  " 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  Then  why  do  you,  and  all  who,  like  you,  have 
honest  work  to  give,  leave  me  no  other  alternative  ? 
I  have  acted  wrongly  and  foolishly,  but  I  wish  to  do 
better.  I  do  not  ask  a  place  of  trust,  only  work  with 
others,  under  the  eyes  of  others,  where  I  could  not 
rob  you  of  a  cent's  worth  if  I  wished.  In  the  hurry 
and  routine  of  your  office  you  would  not  listen  to 
me,  so  I  come  to-night  and  make  this  appeal.  If 
you  refuse  it,  and  I  go  to  the  devil,  you  will  have  a 
hand  in  the  result." 

The  prompt  business-man,  whose  mind  had  learned 
to  work  with  the  rapidity  of  his  machinery,  looked 
at  the  troubled,  half-desperate  face  a  moment,  and 
then  said  emphatically, 

"By  Jove,  you  are  right!     I'll  give  you  work. 


344     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Come  to-morrow.  Good  night,  and  good  luck  to 
your  good  intentions.  But  remember,  no  nonsense." 

Here  at  last  was  a  chance  ;  here  at  last  was  regular 
employment.  It  was  one  step  forward.  Would  he 
be  able  to  hold  it?  This  seemed  doubtful  on  the 
morrow,  after  he  had  realized  the  nature  of  his  sur 
roundings.  He  was  set  to  work  in  a  large  room  full  of 
men,  boys,  and  slatternly-dressed  girls.  He  was  both 
scolded  and  laughed  at  for  the  inevitable  awkward 
ness  of  a  new  beginner,  and  soon  his  name  and  his 
tory  began  to  be  whispered  about.  During  the  noon 
recess  a  rude  fellow  flung  the  epithet  of  "  jail-bird  " 
at  him,  and,  of  course,  it  stuck  like  a  burr.  Never  in 
all  his  life  had  he  made  such  an  effort  at  self-control 
as  that  which  kept  his  hands  off  this  burly  tormentor. 

He  both  puzzled  and  annoyed  his  companions. 
They  knew  that  he  did  not  belong  to  their  class,  and 
his  bearing  and  manner  made  them  unpleasantly 
conscious  of  his  superiority  ;  and  yet  all  believed 
themselves  so  much  more  respectable  than  he,  that 
they  felt  it  was  a  wrong  to  them  that  he  should  be 
there  at  all.  Thus  he  was  predestined  to  dislike  and 
ill-treatment.  But  that  he  could  act  as  if  he  were 
deaf  and  blind  to  all  that  they  could  do  or  say  was 
more  than  they  could  understand.  With  knit  brows 
and  firmly-closed  lips  he  bent  his  whole  mind  to  the 
mastery  of  the  mechanical  duties  required  of  him, 
and  when  they  were  over  he  strode  straight  to  his 
humble  lodging-place. 

Mr.  Growther  watched  him  curiously  as  he  reacted 
into  lassitude  and  despondency  after  the  strain  and 
tension  of  the  day. 


A   FOOT-HOLD. 


345 


"  It's  harder  to  stand  than  'tis  to  git  along  with 
me,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  much  harder." 

"  O  thunder !  better  give  it  up,  therr,  and  try 
something  else." 

"  No,  it's  my  only  chance." 

"  There's  plenty  other  things  to  do." 

"  Not  for  me.  These  vulgar  wretches  I  am  work 
ing  with  think  it  an  outrage  that  a 'jail-bird,'  as  they 
call  me,  contaminates  the  foul  air  that  they  breathe. 
I  maybe  driven  out  by  them;  but, "setting  his  teeth 
"  I  won't  give  up  this  foot-hold  of  my  own  accord." 

"You  might  have  been  President  if  you  had  shown 
such  grit  before  you  got  down." 

"That's  not  pleasant  to  think  of  now." 

"  I  might  'a  known  that ;  but  it's  my  mean  way 
of  comfortin'  people.  A-a-h." 

Haldane's  new  venture  out  into  the  world  could 
scarcely  have  had  a  more  painful  and  prosaic  begin 
ning;  but,  as  he  said,  he  had  gained  a  "  foot-hold." 

There  was  one  other  encouraging  fact,  of  which 
he  did  not  know.  Mr.  Ivison  sent  for  the  foreman 
of  the  room  in  which  Haldane  had  been  set  at  work, 
and  said, 

"  Give  the  young  fellow  a  fair  chance,  and  report 
to  me  from  time  to  time  how  he  behaves ;  but  say 
nothing  of  this  to  him.  If  he  gets  at  his  old  tricks, 
discharge  him  at  once  ;  but  if  he  shows  the  right 
spirit,  I  wish  to  know  it." 


346    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

"THAT  SERMON  WAS  A  BOMB-SHELL." 

THE  following  Sabbath  morning  smiled  so 
brightly  that  one  might  be  tempted  to  believe 
that  there  was  no  sin  and  misery  in  the  world,  and 
that  such  a  church  as  Mrs.  Arnot  condemned  was  an 
eminently  proper  organization.  As  the  congrega 
tion  left  their  elegant  homes,  and  in  elegant  toilets 
wended  their  way  to  their  elegant  church,  they  saw 
nothing  in  the  blue  sky  and  sunshine  to  remind 
them  of  the  heavy  shadows  brooding  over  the  earth. 
What  more  was  needed  than  that  they  should  give 
an  hour  to  their  aesthetic  worship,  as  they  had  done 
in  the  past  when  the  weather  permitted,  and  then- 
return  to  dinner  and  a  nap  arid  all  the  ordinary 
routine  of  life?  There  were  no  "  beasts  at  Ephesus  " 
to  fight  now.  The  times  had  changed,  and  to  live 
in  this  age  like  an  ancient  Christian  would  be  like 
going  to  Boston  on  foot  when  one  might  take  a  pal 
ace  car.  Hundreds  9f  fully  grown,  perfectly  sane 
people  filed  into  the  church,  who  complacently  felt 
that  in  attending  service  once  or  twice  a  week,  if  so 
inclined,  they  were  very  good  Christians.  And  yet, 
strange  to  say,  there  was  a  conspicuous  cross  on  the 
spire,  and  they  had  named  their  church  "  St.  Paul's." 


THAT  SERMON    WAS  A   BOMB-SHELL.        347 

St.  Paul !  Had  they  read  his  life  ?  If  so,  how  came 
they  to  satirize  themselves  so  severely  ?  A  dwarf  is 
the  more  to  be  pitied  if  named  after  a  giant. 

It  was  very  queer  that  this  church  should  name 
itself  after  the  tent-maker,  who  became  all  things  to 
all  men,  and  who  said,  "  I  made  myself  servant  unto 
all  that  I  might  gain  the  more." 

It  was  very  unfortunate  for  them  to  have  chosen 
this  saint,  and  yet  the  name,  Saint  Paul,  had  a  very 
aristocratic  sound  in  Hillaton,  and  thus  far  had 
seemed  peculiarly  fitted  to  the  costly  edifice  on 
which  it  was  carved. 

And  never  had  the  church  seemed  more  stately 
than  on  this  brilliant  Sabbath  morning;  never  had 
its  elegance  and  that  of  the  worshipers  seemed  more 
in  harmony. 

But  the  stony  repose  and  calm  of  their  Gothic 
temple  was  not  reflected  in  the  faces  of  the  people. 
There  was  a  general  air  of  perturbation  and  expect 
ancy.  The  peculiar  and  complacent  expression  of 
those  who  are  conscious  of  being  especially  well 
dressed  and  respectable  was  conspicuously  absent. 
Annoyed,  vexed,  anxious  faces  passed  into  the  ves 
tibule.  Knots  of  twos,  threes,  and  half-dozens  lin 
gered  and  talked  eagerly,  with  emphatic  gestures 
and  much  shaking  of  heads.  Many  who  disliked 
rough  weather  from  any  cause  avoided  their  fellow- 
members,  and  glided  hastily  in,  looking  worried  and 
uncomfortable.  Between  the  managing  officers,  who 
had  felicitated  themselves  on  having  secured  a  con 
gregation  containing  the  creme  de  la  creme  of  the 
city,  on  one  hand,  and  the  disquieted  Mr.  Blakeman, 


348     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

who  found  the  church  growing  uncomfortably  cold, 
on  the  other,  Mrs.  Arnot's  words  and  acts  and  the 
minister's  implied  pledge  to  bring  the  matter  square 
ly  to  an  issue,  had  become  generally  known,  and  a 
foreboding  as  of  some  great  catastrophe  oppressed 
the  people.  If  the  truth  were  known,  there  were 
very  general  misgivings ;  and,  now  that  the  people 
had  been  led  to  think,  there  were  some  uncomfort 
able  aspects  to  the  question.  Even  that  august 
dignitary  the  sexton  was  in  a  painful  dilemma  as 
to  whether  it  would  be  best  to  assume  an  air  of 
offended  dignity,  or  veer  with  these  eddying  and 
varying  currents  until  sure  from  what  quarter  the 
wind  would  finally  blow.  He  had  learned  that  it 
was  Mrs.  Arnot  whom  he  had  twice  carelessly  mo 
tioned  with  his  thumb  into  a  back  seat,  and  he  could 
not  help  remarking  to  several  of  the  more  conserva 
tive  members,  that  "  it  was  very  unjust  and  also  un 
kind  in  Mrs.  Arnot  to  palm  herself  off  on  him  as  an 
ordinary  pusson,  when  for  a  long  time  it  had  been 
the  plainly  understood  policy  of  the  church  not  to 
encourage  ordinary  pussons." 

But  the  rumor  that  something  unusual  was  about 
to  take  place  at  St.  Paul's  brought  thither  on  this 
particular  Sabbath  all  kinds  and  descriptions  of  peo 
ple  ;  and  the  dignified  functionary  whose  duty  it  was 
to  seat  them  grew  so  hot  and  flustered  with  his  un 
wonted  tasks,  and  made  such  strange  blunders  that 
both  he  and  others  felt  that  they  were  on  the  verge 
of  chaos.  But  the  most  extraordinary  appearing 
personage  was  no  other  than  Mr.  Jeremiah  Grow- 
ther  ;  and,  as  with  his  gnarled  cane  he  hobbled  along 


THAT  SERMON    WAS  A   BOMB- SHELL.         349 

at  Haldane's  side,  he  looked  for  all  the  world  as  if 
some  grotesque  and  antique  carving  had  come  to  life 
and  was  out  for  an  airing.  Not  only  the  sexton, 
but  many  others,  looked  askance  at  the  tall,  broad- 
shouldered  youth  of  such  evil  fame,  and  his  weird- 
appearing  companion,  as  they  walked  quite  far  up 
the  aisle  before  they  could  find  a  seat. 

Many  rubbed  their  eyes  to  be  sure  it  was  not  a 
dream.  What  had  come  over  the  decorous  and  ele 
gant  St.  Paul's  ?  When  before  had  its  dim,  religious 
light  revealed  such  scenes  ?  Whence  this  irruption 
of  strange,  uncouth  creatures, — a  jail-bird  in  a  labor 
er's  garb,  and  the  profane  old  hermit,  whom  the 
boys  had  nicknamed  "  Jerry  Growler,"  and  who  had 
not  been  seen  in  church  for  years. 

Mrs.  Arnot,  followed  by  many  eyes,  passed  quietly 
up  to  her  pew,  and  bowed  her  head  in  prayer. 

Prayer  !  Ah  !  in  their  perturbation  some  had  for 
gotten  that  this  was  the  place  of  prayer,  and  hastily 
bowed  their  heads  also. 

Mr.  Arnot  had  been  absorbed  in  his  business  to 
the  very  steps,  and  much  too  absorbed  during  the 
week  to  hear  or  heed  any  rumors  ;  but  as  he  walked 
up  the  aisle  he  stared  around  in  evident  surprise, 
and  gave  several  furtive  glances  over  his  shoulder 
after  being  seated.  As  his  wife  raised  her  head,  he 
leaned  toward  her  and  whispered  : 

"  What's  the  matter  with  Jeems  ?  for,  if  I  mistake 
not,  there  are  a  good  many  second-class  saints  here 
to-day."  But  not  a  muscle  changed  in  Mrs.  Arnot's 
pale  face.  Indeed,  she  scarcely  heard  him.  Her 
soul  was  and  had  been  for  several  days  in  the  upper 


350    KNIGHT  OF    THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

sanctuary,  in  the  presence  of  God,  pleading  with 
him  that  he  would  return  to  this  earthly  temple 
which  the  spirit  of  the  world  had  seemingly  usurped. 

When  Dr.  Barstow  arose  to  commence  the  ser 
vice,  a  profound  hush  fell  upon  the  people.  Even 
his  face  and  bearing  impressed  and  awed  them,  and 
it  was  evident  that  he,  too,  had  climbed  some  spiri 
tual  mountain,  and  had  been  face  to  face  with  God. 

As  he  proceeded  with  the  service  in  tones  that 
were  deep  and  magnetic,  the  sense  of  unwonted 
solemnity  increased.  Hymns  had  been  selected 
which  the  choir  could  not  perform,  but  must  sing; 
and  the  relation  between  the  sacred  words  and  the 
music  was  apparent.  The  Scripture  lessons  were  read 
as  if  they  were  a  message  for  that  particular  con 
gregation  and  for  that  special  occasion,  and,  as  the 
simple  and  authoritative  words  fell  on  the  ear  the 
general  misgiving  was  increased.  They  seemed 
wholly  on  Mrs.  Arnot's  side  ;  or,  rather,  she  was  on 
theirs. 

When,  at  last,  Dr.  Barstow  rose,  not  as  a  sacred 
orator  and'  theologian  who  is  about  to  deliver  a  ser 
mon,  but  rather  as  an  earnest  man,  who  had  some 
thing  of  vital  moment  to  say,  the  silence  became 
almost  oppressive. 

Instead  of  commencing  by  formally  announcing 
his  text,  as  was  his  custom,  he  looked  silently  and 
steadily  at  his  people  for  a  moment,  thus  heighten 
ing  their  expectancy. 

"  My  friends,"  he  began  slowly  and  quietly,  and 
there  was  a  suggestion  of  sorrow  in  his  tone  ra 
ther  than  of  menace  or  denunciation  ;  "  my  friends, 


THAT  SERMON    WAS  A    BOMB-SHELL.         351 

I  wish  to  ask  your  calm  and  unprejudiced  atten 
tion  to  what  I  shall  say  this  morning.  I  ask  you 
to  interpret  my  words  in  the  light  of  the  word 
of  God  and  your  own  consciences;  and  if  I  am 
wrong  in  any  respect  I  will  readily  acknowledge  it. 
Upon  a  certain  occasion  Christ  said  to  his  disci 
ples,  '  Ye  know  not  what  manner  of  spirit  ye  are 
of; '  and  he  at  once  proved  how  widely  his  spirit 
differed  from  theirs.  They  accepted  the  lesson, 
— they  still  followed  him,  and  through  close  com 
panionship  eventually  acquired  his  merciful,  catholic 
spirit.  But  at  this  time  they  did  not  understand 
him  nor  themselves.  Perhaps  we  can  best  under 
stand  the  spirit  we  are  of  by  considering  his,  and  by 
learning  to  know  him  better  whom  we  worship,  by 
whose  name  we  are  called. 

"  During  the  past  week  I  have  been  brought  face 
to  face  with  the  Christ  of  the  Bible,  rather  than  the 
Christ  of  theology  and  philosophy,  who  has  hitherto 
dwelt  in  my  study ;  and  I  have  learned  with  sorrow 
and  shame  that  my  spirit  differed  widely  from  his. 
The  Christ  that  came  from  heaven  thought  of  the 
people,  and  had  compassion  on  the  multitude.  I 
was  engrossed  with  my  sermons,  my  systems  of 
truth,  and  nice  interpretations  of  passages  that  I 
may  have  rendered  more  obscure.  But  I  have  made 
a  vow  in  his  name  and  strength  that  henceforth  I 
will  no  longer  come  into  this  pulpit,  or  go  into  any 
other,  to  deliver  sermons  of  my  own.  I  shall  no 
longer  philosophize  about  Christ,  but  endeavor  to 
lead  you  directly  to  Christ ;  and  thus  you  will  learn 
by  comparison  what  manner  of  spirit  you  are  of, 


352     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

and,  I  trust,  become  imbued  with  his  Spirit.  I 
shall  speak  the  truth  in  love,  and  yet  witjiout  fear, 
and  with  no  wordy  disguise.  Henceforth  I  do  not 
belong  to  you  but  to  my  Master,  and  I  shall  present 
the  Christ  who  loved  all,  who  died  for  all,  and  who 
said  to  all,  '  Whosoever  will,  let  him  come  ! ' 

"  You  will  find  my  text  in  the  Gospel  of  St.  John, 
the  nineteenth  chapter  and  fifth  verse : 

"  *  Then  came  Jesus  forth,  wearing  the  crown  of 
thorns  and  the  purple  robe.  And  Pilate  saith  unto 
them,  Behold  the  Man  !  '  • 

11  Let  us  behold  him  to-day,  and  learn  to  know 
him  and  to  know  ourselves  better.  If  we  discover 
any  sad  and  fatal  mistake  in  our  religious  life,  let  us 
correct  it  before  it  is  too  late." 

.  It  would  be  impossible  to  portray  the  effect  of  the 
sermon  that  followed,  coming,  as  it  did,  from  a  strong 
soul  stirred  to  its  depths  by  the  truth  under  con 
sideration.  The  people  for  the  time  being  were 
swayed  by  it  and  carried  away.  What  was  said  was 
seen  to  be  truth,  felt  to  be  truth ;  and  as  the  divine 
Man  stood  out  before  them  luminous  in  his  own 
loving  and  compassionate  deeds,  which  manifest 
ed  his  character  and  the  principles  of  the  faith  he 
founded,  the  old,  exclusive,  self-pleasing  life  of  the 
church  shriveled  up  as  a  farce  and  a  sham. 

"  In  conclusion,"  said  Dr.  Barstow,  "  what  was  the 
spirit  of  this  Man  when  he  summoned  publicans  and 
fishermen  to  be  his  followers  ?  what  was  his  spirit 
when  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  leper?  what,  when 
he  said  to  the  outcast,  *  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee, 
go  and  sin  no  more  ? '  what,  when  to  the  haughty 


THAT  SERMON    WAS  A   BOMB-SHELL.         353 

Pharisees,  the  most  respectable  people  of  that  day, 
he  threatened,  '  Woe  unto  you  !  ' 

"He  looked  after  the  rich  and  almost  perfect 
young  man,  by  whom  he  was  nevertheless  rejected, 
and  loved  him  ;  he  also  said  to  the  penitent  thief, 
'  To-day  thou  shalt  be  with  me  in  Paradise.'  His 
heart  was  as  large  as  humanity.  Such  was  his 
spirit." 

After  a  moment's  pause,  in  which  there  was  a  hush 
of  breathless  expectancy,  Dr.  Barstow's  deep  tones 
were  again  heard.  "  God  grant  that  henceforth 
yonder  doors  may  be  open  to  all  whom  Christ  re 
ceived,  and  with  the  same  welcome  that  he  gave. 
If  this  cannot  be,  the  name  of  St.  Paul,  the  man 
who  4  made  himself  the  servant  unto  all  that  he 
might  gain  the  more,'  can  no  longer  remain  upon 
this  church  save  in  mockery.  If  this  cannot  be, 
whoever  may  come  to  this  temple,  Christ  will  not 
enter  it,  nor  dwell  within  it." 

The  people  looked  at  each  other,  and  drew  a  long 
breath.  Even  those  who  were  most  in  love  with 
the  old  system  forgot  Dr.  Barstow,  and  felt  for  the 
moment  that  they  had  a  controversy  with  his  Mas 
ter. 

The  congregation  broke  up  in  a  quiet  and  subdued 
manner.  All  were  too  deeply  impressed  by  what 
they  had  heard  to  be  in  a  mood  for  talking  as  yet; 
and  of  the  majority,  it  should  be  said  in  justice  that, 
conscious  of  wrong,  they  were  honestly  desirous  of 
a  change  for  the  better. 

During  the  sermon  Mr.  Growther's  quaint  and 
wrinkled  visage  had  worked  most  curiously,  and 


354     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

there  were  times  when  he  with  difficulty  refrained 
from  a  hearty  though  rather  profane  indorsement. 

On  his  way  home  he  said  to  Haldane,  "  I've  lived 
like  a  heathen  on  Lord's  day  and  all  days ;  but,  by 
the  holy  poker,  I'll  hear  that  parson  hereafter  every 
Sunday,  rain  or  shine,  if  I  have  to  fight  my  way  into 
the  church  with  a  club." 

A  peculiar  fire  burned  in  the  young  man's  eyes, 
and  his  lips  were  very  firm,  but  he  made  no  reply. 
The  Man  whose  portraiture  he  had  beheld  that  day 
was  a  revelation,  and  he  hoped  that  this  divine  yet 
human  Friend  might  make  a  man  of  him. 

"  Well,"  remarked  Mr.  Arnot,  sententiously,  "that 
sermon  was  a  perfect  bomb-shell ;  and,  mark  my 
words,  it  will  either  blow  the  doctor  out  of  his  pulpit, 
or  some  of  the  first-class  saints  out  of  their  pews." 

But  a  serene  and  hopeful  light  shone  from  Mrs. 
Arnot's  eyes,  and  she  only  said,  in  a  low  tone, 

"  '  The  Lord  is  in  his  holy  temple.'  " 


FEEDING  AN  ANCIENT  GRUDGE. 


355 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

MR.   GROWTHER  FEEDS  AN   ANCIENT   GRUDGE. 

THE  problem  in  regard  to  the  future  of  St.  Paul's 
Church,  which  had  so  greatly  burdened  Dr. 
Barstow,  was  substantially  solved.  Christ  had  ob 
tained  control  of  the  preacher's  heart,  and  hence 
forth  would  not  be  a  dogma,  but  a  living  presence, 
in  his  sermons.  The  Pharisees  of  old  could  not 
keep  the  multitudes  from  him,  though  their  motives 
for  following  him  were  often  very  mixed.  Although 
the  philosophical  Christ  of  theology,  whom  Dr.  Bar- 
stow  had  ably  preached,  could  not  change  the  atmo 
sphere  of  St.  Paul's,  the  Christ  of  the  Bible,  the 
Man  of  Sorrows,  the  meek  and  lowly  Nazarene, 
could,  and  the  masses  would  be  tempted  to  feel  that 
they  had  a  better  right  in  a  place  sacred  to  his  wor 
ship  than  those  who  resembled  him  in  spirit  as  little 
as  they  did  in  the  pomp  of  their  life. 

There  would  be  friction  at  first,  and  some  serious 
trouble.  Mr.  Arnot's  judgment  was  correct,  and 
some  of  the  "first-class  saints"  (in  their  own  esti 
mation)  would  be  "  blown  out  of  their  pews."  St. 
Paul's  would  eventually  cease  to  be  the  fashionable 
Church  par  excellence  ;  and  this  fact  alone  would  be 
good  and  sufficient  reason  for  a  change  on  the  part 


356     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

of  some  who  intend  to  be  select  in  their  associations 
on  earth,  whatever  relations  with  the  "  mixed  mul 
titude  "  they  may  have  to  endure  in  heaven.  But 
the  warm-hearted  and  true-hearted  would  remain  ; 
and  every  church  grows  stronger  as  the  Pharisees 
depart  and  the  publicans  and  sinners  enter. 

The  congregation  that  gathered  at  the  even 
ing  service  of  the  memorable  Sabbath  described 
in  the  previous  chapter  was  prophetic.  Many  of 
the  wealthy  and  aristocratic  members  were  absent, 
either  from  habit  or  disgust.  Haldane,  Mr.  Grow- 
ther,  and  many  who  in  some  respects  resembled 
them,  were  present.  "  Jeems,"  the  discriminating 
sexton,  had  sagaciously  guessed  that  the  wind  was 
about  to  blow  from  another  quarter,  and  was  veer 
ing  around  also,  as  fast  as  he  deemed  it  prudent. 
"  Ordinary  pussons  "  received  more  than  ordinary 
attention,  and  were  placed  within  ear-shot  of  the 
speaker. 

But  the  problem  of  poor  Haldane's  future  was  not 
clear  by  any  means.  It  is  true  a  desire  to  live  a 
noble  life  had  been  kindled  in  his  heart,  but  as 
yet  it  was  but  little  more  than  a  good  impulse,  an 
aspiration.  In  the  fact  that  his  eyes  had  been 
turned  questioningly  and  hopefully  toward  the  only 
One  who  has  ever  been  able  to  cope  with  the  mys 
tery  of  evil,  there  was  rich  promise  ;  but  just  what 
this  divine  Friend  could  do  for  him  he  understood 
as  little  as  did  the  fishermen  of  Galilee.  They  looked 
for  temporal  change  and  glory  ;  he  was  looking 
for  some  vague  and  marvelous  change  and  exalta 
tion. 


FEEDING  AN  ANCIENT  GRUDGE.  357 

But  the  Sabbath  passed,  and  he  remained  his  old 
self.  Hoping,  longing  for  the  change  did  not  pro 
duce  it. 

It  was  one  of  Mr.  Growther's  peculiarities  to  have 
a  fire  upon  the  hearth  even  when  the  evenings  were 
so  warm  as  not  to  require  it.  "  Might  as  well  kinder 
git  ourselves  used  to  heat,"  he  would  growl  when 
Haldane  remonstrated. 

After  the  evening  service  they  both  lowered  at 
the  fire  for  some  time  in  silence. 

"  Except  ye  be  converted,  and  become  as  little 
children,  ye  shall  not  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,"  had  been  Dr.  Barstow's  text  ;  and,  as  is 
usually  the  case,  the  necessity  of  conversion  had 
been  made  clearer  than  just  what  conversion  is  ;  and 
many  more  than  the  disquieted  occupants  of  the 
quaint  old  kitchen  had  been  sent  home  sorely  per 
plexed  how  to  set  about  the  simple  task  of  "believ 
ing."  But  it  was  a  happy  thing  for  all  that  they 
had  been  awakened  to  the  fact  that  something  must 
be  done.  After  that  sermon  none  could  delude 
themselves  with  the  hope  that  being  decorous,  well- 
dressed  worshipers  at  St.  Paul's  would  be  all  that 
was  required. 

But  Mr.  Growther  needed  no  argument  on  this 
subject,  and  he  had  long  believed  that  his  only 
chance  was,  as  he  expressed  it,  "  such  an  out-and- 
out  shakin'  to  pieces,  and  makin'  over  agin  that  I 
wouldn't  know  myself."  Then  he  would  rub  his 
rheumatic  legs  despondently  and  add,  "But  my 
speretual  j'ints  have  got  as  stiff  and  dry  as  these 
old  walkin'  pins  ;  and  when  I  try  to  git  up  some 


358     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

good  sort  o'  feelin'  it's  like  pumpin'  of  a  dry  pump. 
I  only  feel  real  hearty  when  I'm  a  cussin*.  A-a-h  !  " 

But  the  day's  experience  and  teaching  had  awak 
ened  anew  in  his  breast,  as  truly  as  in  Haldane's, 
the  wish  that  he  could  be  converted,  whatever  that 
blessed  and  mysterious  change  might  be  ;  and  so, 
with  his  wrinkled  face  seamed  with  deeper  and  more 
complex  lines  than  usual,  the  poor  old  soul  stared 
at  the  fire,  which  was  at  once  the  chief  source  of 
his  comfort  and  the  emblem  of  that  which  he  most 
dreaded.  At  last  he  snarled, 

"  I'm  a  blasted  old  fool  for  goin'  to  meetin'  and 
gittin'  all  riled  up  so.  Here,  I  haven't  had  a  com 
fortable  doze  to-day,  and  I  shall  be  kickin'  around 
all  night  with  nothin'  runnin'  in  my  head  but  *  Ex 
cept  ye  be  convarted,  except  ye  be  convarted  ; '  I 
wish  I  had  as  good  a  chance  of  bein'  convarted  as  I 
have  of  bein'  struck  by  lightnin'." 

"  I  wish  I  needed  conversion  as  little  as  you,"  said 
Haldane  despondently. 

"Now  look  here,"  snapped  the  old  man  ;  "  I'm  in 
no  mood  for  any  nonsense  to-night.  I  want  you  to 
know  I  never  have  been  convarted,  and  I  can  prove 
it  to  you  plaguy  quick  if  you  stroke  me  agin  the 
fur.  You've  got  the  advantage  of  me  in  this  busi 
ness,  though  you  have  been  a  hard  cuss  ;  for  you  are 
young  and  kind  o'  limber  yet."  Then,  as  he  glanced 
at  the  discouraged  youth,  his  manner  changed,  and 
in  a  tone  that  was  meant  to  be  kindly  he  added, 
"  There,  there !  Why  don't  you  pluck  up  heart  ? 
If  I  was  as  young  as  you  be,  I'd  get  convarted  if  it 
took  me  all  summer." 


FEEDING  AN  ANCIENT  GRUDGE. 


359 


Haldane  shook  his  head,  and  after  a  moment  slowly 
and  musingly  said,  as  much  to  himself  as  to  the 
giver  of  this  good  advice, 

"  I'm  in  the  Slough  of  Despond,  and  I  don't  know 
how  to  get  out.  I  can  see  the  sunny  uplands  that  I 
long  to  reach,  but  every  thing  is  quaking  and  giving 
way  under  my  feet.  After  listening  to  Dr.  Barstow's 
grand  sermon  this  morning,  my  spirit  flamed  up 
hopefully.  Now  he  has  placed  a  duty  directly  in  my 
path  that  I  cannot  perform  by  myself.  Mrs.  Arnot 
has  made  it  clear  to  me  that  the  manhood  I  need  is 
Christian  manhood.  Dr.  Barstow  proves  out  of  the 
Bible  that  the  first  step  toward  this  is  conversion, — 
which  seems  to  be  a  mysterious  change  which  I  but 
vaguely  understand.  I  must  do  my  part  myself,  he 
says,  yet  I  am  wholly  dependent  on  the  will  and 
co-operation  of  another.  Just  what  am  I  to  do? 
Just  when  and  how  will  the  help  come  in?  How 
can  I  know  that  it  will  come  ?  or  how  can  I  ever  be 
sure  that  I  have  been  converted  ?  " 

"  O,  stop  splittin'  hairs  !  "  said  Mr.  Growther,  test 
ily.  "  Hanged  if  I  can  tell  you  how  it's  all  goin'  to 
be  brought  about, — go  ask  the  parson  to  clear  up 
these  p'ints  for  you, — but  I  can  tell  you  this  much : 
when  you  git  convarted  you'll  know  it.  If  you  had 
a  ragin'  toothache,  and  it  suddenly  stopped  and  you 
felt  comfortable  all  over,  wouldn't  you  know  it? 
But  that  don't  express  it.  You'd  feel  more'n  com 
fortable  ;  you'd  feel  so  good  you  couldn't  hold  in. 
You'd  be  fur  shoutin'  ;  you  wouldn't  know  yourself. 
Why,  doesn't  the  Bible  say  you'd  be  a  new  critter? 
There'll  be  just  such  a  change  in  your  heart  as  there 


360    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

is  in  this  old  kitchen  when  we  come  in  on  a  cold, 
dark  night  and  light  the  candles,  and  kindle  a  fire. 
I  tell  you  what  'tis,  young  man,  if  you  once  got  con- 
varted  your  troubles  would  be  well-nigh  over." 

Though  the  picture  of  this  possible  future  was 
drawn  in  such  homely  lines,  Haldane  looked  at  it  with 
wistful  eyes.  He  had  become  accustomed  to  his 
benefactor's  odd  ways  and  words,  and  caught  his 
sense  beneath  the  grotesque  imagery.  As  he  was 
then  situated,  the  future  drawn  by  the  old  man  and 
interpreted  by  himself  was  peculiarly  attractive.  He 
was  very  miserable,  and  it  is  most  natural,  especially 
for  the  young,  to  wish  to  be  happy.  He  had  been 
led  to  believe  that  conversion  would  lead  to  a  hap 
piness  as  great  as  it  was  mysterious, — a  sort  of  mi 
raculous  ecstasy,  that  would  render  him  oblivious  of 
the  hard  and  prosaic  conditions  of  his  lot.  Through 
misfortune  and  his  own  fault  he  possessed  a  very 
defective  character.  This  character  had  been  formed, 
it  is  true,  by  years  of  self-indulgence  and  wrong,  and 
Mrs.  Arnot  had  asserted  that  reform  would  require 
long,  patient,  and  heroic  effort.  Indeed,  she  had 
suggested  that  in  fighting  and  subduing  the  evils 
of  one's  own  nature  a  man  attained  the  noblest  de 
gree  of  knighthood.  He  had  already  learned  how 
severe  was  the  conflict  in  which  he  had  been  led 
to  engage. 

But  might  not  this  mysterious  conversion  make 
things  infinitely  easier?  If  a  great  and  radical  change 
were  suddenly  wrought  in  his  moral  nature,  would 
not  evil  appetites  and  propensities  be  uprooted  like 
vile  weeds?  If  a  "  new  heart"  were  given  him, 


FEEDING  AN  ANCIENT  GRUDGE.  361 

would  not  the  thoughts  and  desires  flowing  from  it 
be  like  pure  water  from  an  unsullied  spring?  After 
the  "  old  things " — that  is  the  evil — had  passed 
away,  would  not  that  which  was  noble  and  good 
spring  up  naturally,  and  almost  spontaneously  ? 

This  was  Mr.  Growther's  view ;  and  he  had  long 
since  learned  that  the  old  man's  opinions  were  sound 
on  most  questions.  This  seemed  to  him,  then,  the 
teaching  of  the  Bible  also,  and  of  such  sermons  as 
he  could  recall.  And  yet  it  caused  him  some  mis 
givings  that  Mrs.  Arnot  had  not  indicated  more 
clearly  this  short-cut  out  of  his  difficulties. 

But  Mr.  Growther's  theology  carried  the  day. 
As  he  watched  the  young  man's  thoughtful  face  he 
thought  the  occasion  ripe  for  the  "  word  in  season." 

"Now "is  the  time,"  he  said;  "now  while  yer 
mora4  j'ints  is  limber.  What's  the  use  of  climbin' 
the  mountain  on  your  hands  and  knees  when  you 
can  go  up  in  a  chariot  of  fire,  if  you  can  only  git  in 
it  ?  "  and  he  talked  and  urged  so  earnestly  that  Hal- 
dane  smiled  and  said, 

14  Mr.  Growther,  you  have  mistaken  your  voca 
tion.  You  ought  to  have  been  a  missionary  to  the 
heathen." 

"That  would  be  sendin'  a  thief  to  ketch  a  thief. 
But  you  know  I've  a  grudge  agin  the  devil,  if  I  do 
belong  to  him  ;  and  if  I  could  help  git  you  out  of 
his  clutches  it  would  do  me  a  sight  o'  good." 

"  If  I  ever  do  get  out  I  shall  indeed  have  to  thank 
you." 

"  I  don't  want  no  thanks,  and  don't  desarve  any. 
You're  only  giving  me  a  chance  to  hit  the  adversary 
16 


362    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

'twixt  the  eyes,"  and  the  old  man  added  his  charac 
teristic  "  A-a-h  !  "  in  an  emphatic  and  vengeful  man 
ner,  as  if  he  would  like  to  hit  very  hard. 

Human  nature  was  on  the  side  of  Mr.  Growther's 
view  of  conversion.  Nothing  is  more  common  than 
the  delusive  hope  that  health,  shattered  by  years  of 
willful  wrong,  can  be  regained  by  the  use  of  some 
highly  extolled  drug,  or  by  a  few  deep  draughts  from 
some  far-famed  spring. 

Haldane  retired  to  rest  fully  bent  upon  securing 
this  vague  and  mighty  change  as  speedily  as  possible. 


HOPING  FOR  A   MIRACLE.  363 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

HOPING  FOR  A   MIRACLE. 

MR.  IVISON,  Haldane's  employer,  was  a  wor 
shiper  at  St.  Paul's,  and,  like  many  others, 
had  been  deeply  impressed  by  the  sermon.  Its  in 
fluence  had  not  wholly  exhaled  by  Monday,  and,  as 
this  gentleman  was  eminently  practical,  he  felt  that 
he  ought  to  do  something,  as  well  as  experience  a 
little  emotion.  Thus  he  was  led  to  address  the  fol 
lowing  note  to  Haldane  : 

Last  week  I  gave  you  a  chance  ;  this  week  I  am  induced  to  give 
you  a  good  word.  While  I  warn  you  that  I  will  tolerate  no  weak 
dallying  tvith  your  old  temptations,  I  also  tell  you  that  I  would  like 
to  see  you  make  a  man  of  yourself,  or,  more  correctly,  perhaps,. as 
Dr.  Barstow  would  express  it,  be  made  a  man  of.  If  one  wants  to 
do  right,  I  believe  there  is  help  for  him  (go  and  ask  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Barstow  about  this)  ;  and  if  you  will  go  right  straight  ahead  till  I  see 
you  can  be  depended  upon,  I  will  continue  to  speak  good  words  to 
you  and  for  you,  and  perhaps  do  more. 

GEORGE  IVISON. 

This  note  greatly  encouraged  Haldane,  and  made 
his  precarious  foot-hold  among  the  world's  industries 
seem  more  firm  and  certain.  The  danger  of  being 
swept  back  into  the  deep  water  where  those  struggle 
who  have  no  foot-hold,  no  work,  no  place  in  society, 
would  not  come  from  the  caprice  or  forgetfulness  of 


364     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

his  employer,  but  from  his  own  peculiar  temptations 
and  weaknesses.  If  he  could  patiently  do  his  duty 
in  his  present  humble  position,  he  justly  believed 
that  it  would  be  the  stepping-stone  to  something 
better.  But,  having  learned  to  know  himself,  he  was 
afraid  of  himself;  and  he  had  seen  with  an  infinite 
dread  what  cold,  dark  depths  yawn  about  one  whom 
society  shakes  off  as  a  vile  and  venomous  thing,  and 
who  must  eventually  take  evil  and  its  consequences 
as  his  only  portion.  The  hot,  reeking  apartment 
wherein  he  toiled  was  the  first  solid  ground  that  he 
had  felt  beneath  his  feet  for  many  days.  If  he  could 
hold  that  footing,  the  water  might  shoal  so  that  he 
could  reach  the  land.  It  is  true  he  could  always 
look  to  his  mother  for  food  and  clothing  if  he  would 
comply  with  her  conditions.  But,  greatly  perverted 
as  his  nature  had  been,  food  and  clothing,  the  main 
tenance  of  a  merely  animal  life,  could  no  longer  satisfy 
him.  He  had  thought  too  deeply,  and  had  seen  too 
much  truth,  to  feed  contentedly  among  the  swine. 

But  the  temptations  which  eventually  lead  to  the 
swine — could  he  persistently  resist  these?  Could  he 
maintain  a  hard,  monotonous  routine  of  toil,  with 
no  excitements,  no  pleasures,  with  nothing  that  even 
approached  happiness  ?  He  dared  not  give  way ;  he 
doubted  his  strength  to  go  forward  alone  with  such 
a  prospect.  If  conversion  be  a  blessed  miracle  by 
which  a  debased  nature  is  suddenly  lifted  up,  and  a 
harsh,  lead-colored,  prosaic  world  transfigured  into 
the  vestibule  of  heaven,  he  longed  to  witness  it  in 
his  own  experience. 

It  was  while  he  was  in  this  mood  that  his  thoughts 


HOPING  FOR  A   MIRACLE.  365 

recurred  to  Dr.  Marks,  the  good  old  clergyman  who 
had  been  the  subject  of  his  rude,  practical  joke 
months  before.  He  recalled  the  sincere,  frank  letter 
which  led  to  their  evening  interview,  and  remem 
bered  with  a  thrill  of  hope  the  strong  and  mysteri 
ous  emotion  that  had  seized  upon  him  as  the  vener 
able  man  took  his  hand  in  his  warm  grasp,  and  said 
in  tones  of  pathos  that  shook  his  soul,  "I  wish  I 
could  lead  you  by  loving  force  into  the  paths  of  plea 
santness  and  peace."  Wild  and  reckless  fool  as  he 
then  was,  it  had  been  only  by  a  decided  effort  and 
abrupt  departure  that  he  had  escaped  the  heavenly 
influences  which  seemed  to  brood  in  the  quiet  study 
where  the  good  man  prayed  and  spun  the  meshes  of 
the  nets  which  he  daily  cast  for  souls.  If  he  could 
visit  that  study  again  with  a  receptive  heart,  might 
not  the  emotion  that  he  had  formerly  resisted  rise 
like  a  flood,  and  sweep  away  his  old  miserable  self, 
and  he  become  in  truth  a  "  new  creature  "  ? 

The  thought,  having  been  once  entertained,  speed 
ily  grew  into  a  hope,  and  then  became  almost  a  cer 
tainty.  He  felt  that  he  would  much  rather  see  Dr. 
Marks  than  Dr.  Barstow,  and  that  if  he  could  feel 
that  kind,  warm  grasp  again,  an  impulse  might  be 
given  him  which  even  Mrs.  Arnot's  wise  and  gentle 
words  could  not  inspire. 

Before  the  week  was  over,  he  felt  that  something 
must  be  done  either  to  soften  his  hard  lot  or  to  give 
him  strength  to  endure  it. 

The  men,  boys,  and  girls  who  worked  at  his  side 
in  the  mill  were  in  their  natures  like  their  garb, 
coarse  and  soiled.  They  resented  the  presence  of 


366     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Haldane  for  a  twofold  reason  ;  they  regarded  the  in 
trusion  of  a  "  jail-bird  "  among  them  in  the  light  of 
an  insult ;  they  were  still  more  annoyed,  and  per 
plexed  also,  that  this  disreputable  character  made 
them  feel  that  he  was  their  superior.  Hence  a  sys 
tem  of  petty  persecution  grew  up.  Epithets  were 
flung  at  him,  and  practical  jokes  played  upon  him 
till  his  heart  boiled  with  anger  or  his  nerves  were 
irritated  to  the  last  degree  of  endurance.  More  than 
once  his  fist  was  clenched  to  strike ;  but  he  remem 
bered  in  time  that  the  heavier  the  blow  he  struck, 
the  more  disastrously  it  would  react  against  himself. 

After  the  exasperating  experiences  and  noise 
of  the  day,  Mr.  Growther's  cottage  was  not  the 
quiet  refuge  he  needed.  Mr.  Growther's  growl  was 
chronic,  and  it  rasped  on  Haldane's  overstrained 
nerves  like  the  filing  of  a  saw.  Dr.  Barstow's  ser 
mons  of  the  previous  Sabbath  had  emphatically 
"riled"  the  old  gentleman,  and  their  only  result, 
apparently,  was  to  make  him  more  out-of-sorts  and 
vindictive  toward  his  poor,  miserable  little  self  than 
ever.  He  was  so  irascible  that  even  the  comfortable 
cat  and  dog  became  aware  that  something  unusual 
was  amiss,  and,  instead  of  dozing  securely,  they 
learned  to  keep  a  wary  and  deprecatory  eye  on  their 
master  and  the  toes  of  his  thick-soled  slippers. 

"  I've  been  goin'  on  like  a  darned  old  porkerpine," 
he  said  to  Haldane  one  evening,  "  and  if  you  don't 
git  convarted  soon  you'd  better  git  out  of  my  way. 
If  you  was  as  meek  as  Moses  and  twice  as  good  you 
couldn't  stand  me  much  longer ;  "  and  the  poor  fellow 
felt  that  there  was  considerable  truth  in  the  remark. 


HOPING  FOR  A   MIRACLE. 


367 


The  mill  closed  at  an  earlier  hour  on  Saturday 
afternoon,  and  he  determined  to  visit  Dr.  Marks  if 
he  could  obtain  permission  from  his  employer  to  be 
absent  a  few  hours  on  Monday  morning.  He  wrote 
a  note  to  Mr.  Ivison,  cordially  thanking  him  for 
his  encouraging  words,  but  adding,  frankly,  that  he 
could  make  no  promises  in  regard  to  himself.  "All 
that  I  can  say,  is,"  he  wrote,  "  that  I  am  trying  to 
do  right  now,  and  that  I  am  grateful  to  you  for  the 
chance  you  have  given  me.  I  wish  to  get  the  '  help  ' 
you  suggest  in  your  note  to  me,  but,  in  memory 
of  certain  relations  to  my  old  pastor,  Dr.  Marks,  I 
would  rather  see  him  than  Dr.  Barstow,  and  if  you 
will  permit  me  to  be  absent  a  part  of  next  Monday 
forenoon  I  will  esteem  it  a  great  favor,  and  will  tres 
pass  on  your  kindness  no  further.  I  can  go  after 
mill-hours  on  Saturday,  and  will  return  by  the  first 
train  on  Monday." 

Mr.  Ivison  readily  granted  the  request,  and  even 
became  somewhat  curious  as  to  the  result. 

When  Mrs.  Arnot  had  learned  from  Haldane  the 
nature  of  his  present  employment,  she  had  experi 
enced  both  pleasure  and  misgivings.  That  he  was 
willing  to  take  and  try  to  do  such  work  rather  than 
remain  idle,  or  take  what  he  felt  would  be  charity, 
•proved  that  there  was  more  good  metal  in  his  com 
position  than  she  had  even  hoped  ;  but  she  naturally 
felt  that  the  stinging  annoyances  of  his  position 
would  soon  become  intolerable.  She  was  not  sur 
prised,  although  she  was  somewhat  perplexed,  at 
the  receipt  of  the  following  letter : 


368    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

MY  DEA.R  MRS.  ARNOT. — Yon  have  been  such  a  true,  kind  friend 
to  me,  and  have  shown  so  much  interest  in  my  welfare,  that  I  am 
led  to  give  you  a  fuller  insight  into  my  present  experiences  and 
hopes.  You  know  that  I  wish  to  be  a  Christian.  You  have  made 
Christian  manhood  seem  the  most  desirable  thing  that  I  can  ever 
possess,  but  I  make  little  or  no  progress  toward  it.  Something  must 
be  done,  and  quickly  too.  Either  there  must  be  a  great  change  in 
me,  or  else  in  my  circumstances.  As  there  is  no  immediate  prospect 
of  the  latter,  I  have  been  led  to  hope  that  there  can  be  such  a  change 
in  me  that  I  shall  be  lifted  above  and  made  superior  to  the  exasper 
ating  annoyances  of  my  condition.  Yes,  I  am  hoping  even  far  more. 
If  I  could  only  experience  the  marvelous  change  which  Dr.  Barstow 
described  so  eloquently  last  Sunday  evening,  might  I  not  do  right 
easily  and  almost  spontaneously?  It  is  so  desperately  hard  to  do 
right  now !  If  conversion  will  render  my  steep,  thorny  path  infi 
nitely  easier,  then  surely  I  ought  to  seek  this  change  by  every  means 
in  my  power.  Indeed,  there  must  be  a  change  in  me,  or  I  shall  lose 
even  the  foot-hold  I  have  gained.  I  am  subjected,  all  day  long,  to 
insult  and  annoyance.  At  times  I  am  almost  desperate  and  on  the 
verge  of  recklessness.  Every  one  of  the  coarse  creatures  that  I  am 
compelled  to  work  with  is  a  nettle  that  loses  no  chance  to  sting  me  ; 
and  there  is  one  among  them,  a  big,  burly  fellow,  who  is  so  offensive 
that  I  cannot  keep  my  hands  off  him  much  longer  if  I  remain  my  old 
self.  You  also  know  what  a  reception  I  must  ever  expect  in  the 
streets  when  I  am  recognized.  The  people  act  as  if  I  were  some  sort 
of  a  reptile,  which  they  must  tolerate  at  large,  but  can,  at  least,  shun 
with  looks  of  aversion.  And  then,  when  I  get  to  Mr.  Growther's 
cottage  I  do  not  find  much  respite.  It  seems  like  ingratitude  to 
write  this,  but  the  good  old  man's  eccentric  habit  of  berating  himself 
and  the  world  in  general  has  grown  wearisome,  to  say  the  least.  I 
want  to  be  lifted  out  of  myself, — far  above  these  petty  vexations  and 
my  own  miserable  weaknesses. 

Once,  before  I  left  home,  I  played  a  rude  joke  on  our  good  old 
pastor.  Instead  of  resenting  it  he  wrote  me  such  a  kind  letter  that 
I  went  to  his  study  to  apologize.  "While  there  his  manner  and  words 
were  such  that  I  had  to  break  away  to  escape  a  sudden  and  mysteri 
ous  influence  that  inclined  me  toward  all  that  is  good.  I  have  hoped 
that  if  I  should  visit  him  I  might  come  under  that  influence  again, 
and  so  be  made  a  new  and  better  man. 

I  have  also  another  motive,  which  you  will  understand.     Mother 


HOPING  FOR  A    MIRACLE.  369 

and  I  differ  widely  on  many  things,  and  always  will ;  but  I  long  to 
see  her  once  more.  I  have  been  thinking  of  late  of  her  many  kind 
nesses — O  that  she  had  been  less  kind,  less  indulgent  !  But  she  can 
not  help  the  past  any  more  than  I  can,  and  it  may  do  us  both  good 
to  meet  once  more.  I  do  not  think  that  she  will  refuse  to  see  me 
or  give  me  shelter  for  a  few  hours,  even  though  her  last  letter  seemed 
harsh. 

I  shall  also  be  glad  to  escape  for  a  few  hours  from  my  squalid 
and  wretched  surroundings.  The  grime  of  the  sordid  things  with 
which  I  have  so  long  been  in  contact  seems  eating  into  my  very  soul, 
and  I  long  to  sleep  once  more  in  my  clean,  airy  room  at  home. 

But  I  am  inflicting  myself  too  long  upon  you.  That  I  have  ven 
tured  to  do  so  is  due  to  your  past  kindness,  which  I  can  only  wonder 
at,  but  cannot  explain.  Gratefully  yours, 

E.  HALDANE. 

Mrs.  Arnot  was  more  than  curious ;  she  was  deep 
ly  interested  in  the  result  of  this  visit,  and  she 
hoped  and  prayed  earnestly  that  it  might  result 
in  good.  But  she  had  detected  an  element  in  the 
young  man's  letter  which  caused  her  considerable 
uneasiness.  His  idea  of  conversion  was  a  sudden 
and  radical  change  in  character  that  would  be  a  sort 
of  spiritual  magic,  contravening  all  the  natural  laws 
of  growth  and  development.  He  was  hoping  to 
escape  from  his  evil  habits  and  weaknesses,  which 
were  of  long  growth,  as  the  leper  escaped  from  his 
disease,  by  a  healing  and  momentary  touch.  He 
would  surely  be  disappointed:  might  he  not  also  be 
discouraged,  and  give  up  the  patient  and  prayerful 
struggle  which  the  sinful  must  ever  wage  against 
sin  in  this  world  ?  She  trusted,  however,  that  God 
had  commenced  a  good  work  in  his  heart,  and 
would  finish  it. 

Even  the  sight  of  his  native  city,  with  its  spires 
glistening  in  the  setting  sun,  moved  Haldane  deeply ; 
16* 


370    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

and  when  in  the  dusk  he  left  the  train,  and  walked 
once  more  through  the  familiar  streets,  his  heart 
was  crowded  with  pleasant  and  bitter  memories, 
which  naturally  produced  a  softened  and  receptive 
mood. 

He  saw  many  well-remembered  faces,  and  a  few 
glanced  at  him  as  if  he  suggested  one  whom  they 
had  known.  But  he  kept  his  hat  drawn  over  his 
eyes,  and,  taking  advantage  of  the  obscurity  of  the 
night,  escaped  recognition. 

'"  It  is  almost  like  coming  back  after  one  has  died," 
he  said  to  himself.  "  I  once  thought  myself  an  im 
portant  personage  in  this  town,  but  it  has  got  on 
better  without  me  than  it  would  have  done  with  me. 
Truly,  Mrs.  Arnot  is  right, — it's  little  the  world 
cares  for  any  one,  and  the  absurdest  of  all  blunders 
is  to  live  for  its  favor." 

It  was  with  a  quickly  beating  heart  that  he  rang 
the  bell  at  the  parsonage,  and  requested  to  be  shown 
up  to  Dr.  Marks'  study.  Was  this  the  supreme  mo 
ment  of  his  life,  and  he  on  the  eve  of  that  myste 
rious,  spiritual  change,  of  which  he  had  heard  so 
much,  and  the  results  of  which  would  carry  him 
along  as  by  a  steady,  mighty  impulse  through  earth's 
trials  to  heaven's  glory  ?  He  fairly  trembled  at  the 
thought. 

The  girl  ,who  had  admitted  him  pointed  to  the 
open  study  door,  and  he  silently  crossed  its  thresh 
old.  The  good  old  clergyman  was  bending  over  his 
sermon,  to  which  he  was  giving  his  finishing  touches, 
and  the  soft  rays  of  the  student's  lamp  made  his 
white  hair  seem  like  a  halo  about  his  head. 


HOPING  FOR  A   MIRACLE.  37 x 

The  sacred  quiet  of  the  place  was  disturbed  only 
by  the  quill  of  the  writer,  who  was  penning  words 
as  unworldly  as  himself.  Another  good  old  divine, 
with  his  Bible  in  his  hand,  looked  down  benignantly 
and  encouragingly  at  the  young  man  from  his  black- 
walnut  frame.  He  was  the  sainted  predecessor  of 
Dr.  Marks,  and  the  sanctity  of  his  life  of  prayer  and 
holy  toil  also  lingered  in  this  study.  Old  volumes 
and  heavy  tomes  gave  to  it  the  peculiar  odor  which 
we  associate  with  the  cloister,  and  suggested  the 
prolonged  spiritual  musings  of  the  past,  which  are 
so  out  of  vogue  in  the  hurried,  practical  world  of 
to-day.  This  study  was,  indeed,  a  quiet  nook, — a 
little,  slowly  moving  eddy  left  far  behind  by  the 
dashing,  foaming  current  of  modern  life  ;  and  Hal- 
dane  felt  impressed  that  he  had  found  the  hallowed 
place,  the  true  Bethel,  where  his  soul  might  be  born 
anew. 


372    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

THE  MIRACLE  TAKES  PLACE. 

"  *"  |"^HE  body  of  my  sermon  is  finished  ;  may  the 
JL  Lord  breathe  into  it  the  breath  of  life  !  "  eja 
culated  Dr.  Marks,  leaning  back  in  his  chair. 

Haldane  now  secured  his  attention  by  knocking 
lightly  on  the  open  door.  The  old  gentleman  arose 
and  came  forward  with  the  ordinary  kindly  manner 
with  which  he  would  greet  a  stranger. 

"  You  do  not  remember  me,"  said  Haldane. 

"  I  cannot  say  that  I  do.  My  eyesight  is  not  as 
good  as  when  I  was  at  your  age." 

"  I  am  also  the  last  one  you  expect  to  see,  but  I 
trust  I  shall  not  be  unwelcome  when  you  know  my 
motive  for  coming.  I  am  Egbert  Haldane,  and  I 
have  hoped  that  your  study  would  remain  open, 
though  nearly  all  respectable  doors  are  closed  against 
me." 

"  Egbert  Haldane  !  Can  I  believe  my  eyes  ?  "  ex 
claimed  the  old  clergyman,  stepping  eagerly  forward. 

"  When  last  in  this  place,"  continued  the  youth, 
"  I  was  led  by  your  generous  forgiveness  of  my  rude 
behavior  toward  you  to  say,  that  if  I  ever  wished  to 
become  a  Christian  I  would  come  to  you  sooner  than 


THE  MIRACLE    TAKES  PLACE.  373 

to  any  one  else.  I  have  come,  for  I  wish  to  be  a 
Christian." 

"  Now  the  Lord  be  praised !  He  has  heard  his 
servant's  prayers,"  responded  Dr.  Marks  fervently. 
"  My  study  is  open  to  you,  my  son,  and  my  heart, 
too,  he  added,  taking  Haldane's  hand  in  both  of  his 
with  a  grasp  that  emphasized  his  cordial  words. 
"  Sit  down  by  me  here,  and  tell  me  all  that  is  on 
your  mind." 

This  reception  was  so  much  kinder  than  he  had 
even  hoped,  that  Haldane  was  deeply  moved.  The 
strong,  genuine  sympathy  unsealed  his  lips,  and  in 
honest  and  impetuous  words  he  told  the  whole  story 
of  his  life  since  their  last  interview.  The  good  doc 
tor  was  soon  fumbling  for  his  handkerchief,  and  as 
the  story  culminated,  mopped  his  eyes,  and  ejacu 
lated,  "  Poor  fellow  !  "  with  increasing  frequency. 

"  And  now,"  concluded  Haldane,  "  if  I  could  only 
think  that  God  would  receive  me  as  you  have, — if 
he  would  only  change  me  from  my  miserable  self  to 
what  I  know  I  ought  to  be,  and  long  to  be, — I  feel 
that  I  could  serve  him  with  gratitude  and  gladness 
the  rest  of  my  life,  even  though  I  should  remain  in 
the  humblest  station  ;  and  I  have  come  to  ask  you 
what  I  am  to  do  ?  " 

"  He  will  receive  you,  my  boy  ;  he  will  receive 
you.  No  fears  on  that  score,"  said  the  doctor,  with 
a  heartiness  that  carried  conviction.  "  But  don't  ask 
me  what  to  do.  I'm  not  going  to  interfere  in  the 
Lord's  work.  He  is  leading  you.  If  you  wanted 
a  text  or  a  doctrine  explained  I'd  venture  to  give 
you  my  views ;  but  in  this  vital  matter  I  shall  leave 


374      KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

you  in  God's  hands,  '  being  confident  of  this  very 
thing,  that  he  which  hath  begun  a  good  work  in  you 
will  perform  it  until  the  day  of  Jesus  Christ.'  I  once 
set  about  reforming  you  myself,  and  you  know  what 
a  bungle  I  made  of  it.  Now  I  believe  the  Lord  has 
taken  you  in  hand,  and  I  shall  not  presume  to  med 
dle.  Bow  with  me  in  prayer  that  he  may  speedily 
bring  you  into  his  marvelous  light  and  knowledge." 
And  the  good  man  knelt  and  spread  his  hands  to 
ward  heaven,  and  prayed  with  the  simplicity  and 
undoubting  faith  of  an  ancient  patriarch. 

Was  his  faith  contagious?  Did  the  pathos  of  his 
voice,  his  strongly  manifested  sympathy,  combine 
with  all  that  had  gone  before  to  melt  the  young 
man's  heart  ?  Or,  in  answer  to  the  prayer,  was 
there 'present  One  whose  province  it  is  to  give  life? 
Like  the  wind  that  mysteriously  rises  and  comes  to 
ward  one  with  its  viewless,  yet  distinctly  felt  power, 
Haldane  was  conscious  of  influences  at  work  in 
his  heart  that  were  as  potent  as  they  were  incom 
prehensible.  Fear  and  doubt  were  passing  away. 
Deep  emotion  thrilled  his  soul.  Nothing  was  dis 
tinct  save  a  rush  of  feeling  which  seemed  to  lift 
him  up  as  on  a  mighty  tide,  and  bear  him  heaven 
ward. 

This  was  what  he  had  sought ;  this  was  what  he  had 
hoped  ;  this  strong,  joyous  feeling,  welling  up  in  his 
heart  like  a  spring  leaping  into  the  sunlight,  must  be 
conversion. 

When  he  arose  from  his  knees  his  eyes  were  full 
of  tears,  but  a  glad  radiance  shone  through  them, 
and,  grasping  the  doctor's  hand,  he  said  brokenly, 


THE  MIRACLE    TAKES  PLACE.  375 

"  I  believe  your  prayer  has  been  answered.  I 
never  felt  so  strangely — so  happy  before." 

"  Come  with  me,"  cried  the  old  man,  impetuously, 
"  come  with  me.  Your  mother  must  learn  at  once 
that  her  son,  who  '  was  dead,  is  alive  again  ; '  "  and 
a  few  moments  later  Haldane  was  once  more  in  the 
low  carriage,  on  his  way,  with  the  enthusiastic  doc 
tor,  to  his  old  home. 

"  We  won't  permit  ourselves  to  be  announced," 
said  the  childlike  old  clergyman  as  they  drove  up 
the  graveled  road;  "we  will,  descend  upon  your 
mother  and  sisters  like  an  avalanche  of  happiness." 

The  curtains  in  the  sitting-room  were  not  drawn, 
and  the  family  group  was  before  them.  The  apart 
ment  was  furnished  with  elegance  and  taste,  but 
the  very  genius, of  dreariness  seemed  to  brood  over 
its  occupants.  The  somber  colors  of  their  mourning 
dresses  seemed  a  part  of  the  deep  shadow  that  was 
resting  upon  them,  and  the  depth  and  gloom  of  the 
shadow  was  intensified  by  their  air  of  despondency 
and  the  pallor  of  their  faces.  The  younger  daughter 
was  reading,  but  the  elder  and  the  mother  held  their 
hands  listlessly  in  their  laps,  and  their  eyes  were 
fixed  on  vacancy,  after  the  manner  of  those  whose 
thoughts  are  busy  with  painful  themes. 

Haldane  could  endure  but  a  brief  glance,  and 
rushed  in,  exclaiming. 

"  Mother,  forgive  me  !  " 

His  presence  was  so  unexpected  and  his  onset  so 
impetuous  that  the  widow  had  no  time  to  consider 
what  kind  of  a  reception  she  ought  to  give  her  way 
ward  son,  of  whom  she  had  washed  her  hands. 


376     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Her  mother-love  triumphed  ;  her  heart  had  long 
been  sore  with  grief,  and  she  returned  his  embrace 
with  equal  heartiness. 

His  sisters,  however,  had  inherited  more  of  their 
mother's  conventionality  than  of  her  heart  ;  and  the 
fact  that  this  young  man  was  their  brother  did  not 
by  any  means  obliterate  from  their  minds  the  other 
facts,  that  he  had  a  very  bad  reputation  and  that  he 
was  abominably  dressed.  Their  greeting,  therefore, 
was  rather  grave  and  constrained,  and  suggested 
that  there  might  have  been  a  death  in  the  family, 
and  that  their  brother  had  come  home  to  attend  the 
funeral. 

But  the  unworldly  Dr.  Marks  was  wholly  absorbed 
in  the  blessed  truth  that  the  dead  was  alive  and 
the  lost  found.  He  had  followed  Haldane  into  the 
apartment,  rubbing  his  hands,  and  beaming  general 
congratulation.  Believing  that  the  serene  light  of 
Heaven's  favor  rested  on  the  youth,  he  had  forgot 
ten  that  it  would  be  long  before  society  relaxed  its 
dark  frown.  It  seemed  to  him  that  it  was  an  occa 
sion  for  great  and  unmixed  rejoicing. 

After  some  brief  explanations  had  been  given  to 
the  bewildered  household,  the  doctor  said  : 

"  My  dear  madam,  I  could  not  deny  myself  the 
pleasure  of  coming  with  your  son,  that  I  might  re 
joice  with  you.  The  Lord  has  answered  our  pray 
ers,  you  see,  and  you  have  reason  to  be  the  happiest 
woman  living." 

"I  am  glad,  indeed,"  sighed  the  widow,  "that 
some  light  is  beginning  to  shine  through  this  dark  and 
mysterious  providence,  for  it  has  been  so  utterly 


THE  MIRACLE    TAKES  PLACE.  377 

dark  and  full  of  mystery  that  my  faith  was  beginning 
to  waver." 

"  The  Lord  will  not  suffer  you  to  be  tempted 
above  that  you  are  able,"  said  the  clergyman,  heart 
ily.  "  When  relief  is  essential  it  comes,  and  it  al 
ways  will  come,  rest  assured.  Take  comfort,  ma 
dam  ;  nay,  let  your  heart  overflow  with  joy  without 
fear.  The  Lord  means  well  by  this  young  man. 
Take  the  unspeakable  blessing  he  sends  you  with 
the  gladness  and  gratitude  of  a  child  receiving  gifts 
from  a  good  Father's  hands.  Since  he  has  begun 
the  good  work,  he'll  finish  it." 

"  I  hope  so.  I  do,  indeed,  hope  that  Egbert  will 
now  come  to  his  senses,  and  see  things  and  duty  in 
their  true  light,  as  other  people  do,"  ejaculated  the 
widow,  fervently.  "  If  he  had  only  taken  the  excel 
lent  advice  you  first  gave  him  here,  how  much  better 
it  would  have  been  for  us  all !  But  now — "  A 
dreary  sigh  closed  the  sentence. 

"  But  now,"  responded  the  doctor,  a  little  warmly, 
"  the  Lord  has  saved  a  soul  from  death,  and  that 
soul  is  your  only  son.  It  appears  to  me  that  this 
thought  should  swallow  up  every  other  ;  and  it  will, 
when  you  realize  it,"  he  concluded,  heartily.  "  This 
world  and  the  fashion  of  it  passeth  away.  Since  all 
promises  well  for  the  world  to  come,  you  have  only 
cause  for  joy.  As  for  my  excellent  advice,  I  was 
better  pleased  with  it  at  the  time  than  the  Lord  was. 
I  now  am  thankful  that  he  let  it  do  no  more  harm 
than  it  did." 

"  We  cannot  help  the  past,  mother,"  said  Hal- 
dane,  eagerly,  "  let  us  turn  our  eyes  to  the  future, 


378     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

which  is  all  aglow  with  hope.  I  feel  that  God  has 
forgiven  me,  and  the  thought  fills  my  heart  with  a 
tumult  of  joy.  Your  warm  embrace  assures  me  that 
you  have  also  forgiven  the  wrong,  the  shame,  and 
sorrow  you  have  received  at  my  hands.  Henceforth 
it  shall  be  my  life-effort  that  you  receive  the  reverse 
of  all  this.  I  at  last  feel  within  me  the  power  to  live 
as  a  true  man. ought." 

"  I  trust  your  hopes  may  be  realized,  Egbert ;  I 
do,  indeed ;  but  you  were  so  confident  before — and 
then  we  all  know  what  followed,"  concluded  his  mo 
ther,  with  a  shudder. 

"  My  present  feeling,  my  present  motives,  in  no 
respect  resemble  my  condition  when  I  started  out 
before,  I  was  then  a  conceited  fool,  ignorant  of 
myself,  the  world,  and  the  -task  I  had  attempted. 
But  now  I  feel  that  all  is  different.  Mother,"  he  ex 
claimed  with  a  rush  of  emotion,  "  I  feel  as  if  heaven 
had  almost  begun  in  my  heart!  why,  then,  do  you 
cloud  this  bright  hour  with  doubts  and  fears  ?  " 

"  Well,  my  son,  we  will  hope  for  the  best,"  said  his 
mother,  endeavoring  to  throw  off  her  despondency, 
and  share  in  the  spirit  which  animated  her  pastor. 
"  But  I  have  dwelt  so  long  in  sorrow  and  foreboding 
that  it  will  require  time  before  I  can  recover  my  old 
natural  tone.  These  sudden  and  strong  alternations 
of  feeling  and  action  on  your  part  puzzle  and  dis 
quiet  me,  and  I  cannot  see  why  one  brought  up  as 
you  have  been  should  not  maintain  a  quiet,  well- 
bred  deportment,  and  do  right  as  a  matter  of  course, 
as  your  sisters  do.  And  yet,  if  Dr.  Marks  truly 
thinks  that  you  mean  to  do  right  from  this  time  for- 


THE  MIRACLE    TAKES  PLACE.  379 

ward,  I  shall  certainly  take  courage  ;  though  how 
we  are  going  to  meet  what 'has  already  occurred  I 
hardly  see." 

"  I  do,  indeed,  believe  that  your  son  intends  to  do 
right,  and  I  also  believe  that  the  Lord  intends  to 
help  him — which  is  of  far  greater  consequence,"  said 
Dr.  Marks.  "  I  will  now  bid  you  good-night,  as  to 
morrow  is  the  Sabbath  ;  and  let  me  entreat  you,  my 
dear  madam,  in  parting,  to  further  by  your  prayer 
and  sympathy  the  good  work  which  the  Lord  has 
begun." 

Haldane  insisted  on  seeing  the  old  gentleman 
safely  back  to  his  study.  Their  ride  was  a  rather 
quiet  one.  each  being  busy  with  his  own  thoughts. 
The  good  man  had  found  his  enthusiasm  strangely 
quenched  in  the  atmosphere  in  which  Mrs.  Haldane 
dwelt,  and  found  that,  in  spite  of  himself,  he  was 
sharing  in  her  doubts  and  fears  as  to  the  future 
course  of  the  erratic  and  impulsive  youth  at  his  side. 
He  blamed  himself  for  this,  and  tried  to  put  doubt 
resolutely  away.  By  a  few  earnest  words  he  sought 
to  show  the  young  man  that  only  as  the  grace  of 
God  was  daily  asked  for  and  daily  received  could  he 
hope  to  maintain  the  Christian  life. 

He  now  began  to  realize  what  a  difficult  problem 
was  before  the  youth.  Society  would  be  slow  to 
give  him  credit  for  changed  motives  and  character, 
and  as  proof  would  take  only  patient  continuance  in 
well-doing.  The  good  doctor  now  more  than  sus 
pected  that  in  his  own  home  Haldane  would  find 
much  that  was  depressing  and  enervating.  Worse 
than  all,  he  would  have  to  contend  with  an  excitable 


380    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

and  ungoverned  nature,  already  sadly  warped  and 
biased  wrongly.  "What  will  be  the  final  result?" 
sighed  the  old  gentleman  to  himself.  But  he  soon 
fell  back  hopefully  on  his  belief  that  the  Lord  had 
begun  a  good  work  and  would  finish  it. 

Haldane  listened  attentively  and  gratefully  to  all 
that  his  old  friend  had  to  say,  and  felt  sure  that  he 
could  and  would  follow  the  advice  given.  Never 
before  had  right  living  seemed  so  attractive,  and  the 
path  of  duty  so  luminous.  But  the  thought  that 
chiefly  filled  him  with  joy  was  that  henceforth  he 
would  not  be  compelled  to  plod  forward  as  a  weary 
pilgrim.  He  felt  that  he  had  wings ;  some  of  the 
divine  strength  had  been  given  him.  He  believed 
himself  changed,  renewed,  transformed  ;  he  was  con 
fident  that  his  old  self  had  perished  and  passed  away, 
and  that,  as  a  new  creature,  ennobling  tendencies 
would  control  him  completely.  He  felt  that  prayer 
would  henceforth  be  as  natural  as  breathing,  and 
praise  and  worship,  the  strong  and  abiding  instincts 
of  his  heart. 


VOTARIES  OF  THE    WORLD.  381 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

VOTARIES  OF  THE  WORLD. 

WHEN  Haldane  returned  he  found  that  his 
sisters  had  retired.  He  was  not  sorry,  for  he 
wished  a  long  and  unrestrained  talk  with  his  mother ; 
but  that  lady  pleaded  that  the  events  of  the  evening 
had  so  unnerved  her,  and  that  there  was  so  much  to 
be  considered,  that  she  must  have  quiet.  In  the 
morning  they  would  try  to  realize  their  situation, 
and  decide  upon  the  best  course  to  be  pursued. 

Even  in  his  exaltation  the  last  suggestion  struck 
Haldane  unpleasantly.  Might  not  his  mother  mark 
out,  and  take  as  a  test  of  his  sincerity,  some  course 
that  would  accord  with  her  ideas  of  right,  but  not 
with  his?  But  the  present  hour  was  so  full  of  mys 
tical  and  inexplicable  happiness  that  he  gave  him 
self  up  to  it,  believing  that  the  divine  hands,  in 
which  he  believed  himself  to  be,  would  provide  for 
him  as  a  helpless  child  is  cared  for. 

The  mill-people  among  whom  he  had  worked  the 
previous  week  would  scarcely  have  recognized  him 
as  he  came  down  to  breakfast  the  following  morning, 
dressed  with  taste  and  elegance.  It  was  evident 
that  his  sisters  could  endure  him  with  better  grace 
than  when  clad  in  his  coarse,  working  garb,  redolent 


382     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

with  the  hitherto  unimagined  odors  pertaining  to 
well-oiled  machinery.  They,  with  his  mother,  greeted 
him,  however,  with  the  air  of  those  who  are  in  the 
midst  of  the  greatest  misfortunes,  but  who  hope  they 
see  a  coming  ray  of  light. 

With  their  sincere  but  conventional  ideas  of  life  he 
was,  in  truth,  a  difficult  problem.  Nor  can  they  be 
very  greatly  blamed.  This  youth,  who  might  have 
been  their  natural  protector  against  every  scandal 
ous  and  contemptuous  word,  and  whose  arm  it 
would  have  been  their  pride  to  take  before  the 
world,  had  now  such  a  reputation  that  only  an  affec 
tion  all-absorbing  and  unselfish  would  be  willing  to 
brave  the  curious  and  scornful  stare  that  follows  one 
who  had  been  so  disgraced.  Mrs.  Haldane  and  her 
daughters  were  not  without  natural  affection,  but 
they  were  morbidly  sensitive  to  public  opinion. 
Like  many  who  live  somewhat  secluded  from  the 
world,  they  imagined  that  vague  and  dreaded  entity 
was  giving  them  much  more  attention  than  it  did. 
"  What  will  people  say  ?  "  was  a  terrible  question  to 
them. 

Nothing  could  be  farther  from  their  nature  than 
an  attempt  to  attract  the  world's  attention  by  loud 
manners  or  flaunting  dress  ;  but  it  was  essential  to 
their  peace  that  good  society  should  regard  them  as 
eminently  respectable,  aristocratic,  and  high-toned 
— as  a  family  far  removed  from  vulgar  and  ordina 
ry  humanity.  That  their  name,  in  the  person  of  a 
son  and  brother,  had  been  dragged  through  courts, 
criminal  records,  and  jails,  was  an  unparalleled  dis 
aster,  that  grew  more  overwhelming  as  they  brooded 


VOTARIES  OF   THE    WORLD.  383 

over  it.  It  seemed  to  them  that  the  world's  great 
eye  was  turned  full  upon  them  in  scorn  and  wonder, 
and  that  only  by  maintaining  their  perfect  seclusion, 
or  by  hiding  among  strangers,  could  they  escape  its 
cruel  glare. 

After  all,  their  feelings  were  only  morbid  develop 
ments  of  the  instincts  of  a  refined  womanly  nature; 
but  the  trouble  was,  they  had  not  the  womanly 
largeness  of  heart  and  affection  which  would  have 
made  them  equal  to  the  emergency,  however  pain 
ful.  Poor  Mrs.  Haldane  was  one  of  those  unfor 
tunate  people  who  always  fall  below  the  occasion  ; 
indeed,  she  seldom  realized  it.  Providence  had  now 
given  her  a  chance  to  atone  for  much  of  her  former 
weakness  and  ruinous  indulgence,  but  her  little  mind 
was  chiefly  engrossed  with  the  question,  What  can 
we  do  to  smooth  matters  over,  and  regain  something 
like  our  old  standing  in  society?  As  the  result  of  a 
long  consultation  with  her  daughters,  it  was  ccm- 
cluded  that  their  best  course  was  to  go  abroad. 
There  they  could  venture  out  with  him  who  was  the 
skelton  of  the  household,  without  having  every  one 
turn  and  look  after  them  with  all  kinds  of  comment 
upon  their  lips.  After  several  years  in  Europe  they 
hoped-  society  would  be  inclined  to  forget  and  over 
look  the  miserable  record  of  the  past  few  months. 

That  the  young  man  himself  would  offer  opposi 
tion  to  the  plan,  and  prefer  to  return  to  the  scene 
of  his  disgrace,  and  to  his  sordid  toil,  did  not  enter 
their  minds. 

In  the  enthusiasm  of  his  new-born  faith  Haldane 
had  determined  to  face  the  public  gaze,  and  hear 


384     KNIGHT  OF  THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Dr.  Marks  preach.  It  is  true,  he  had  greatly  dreaded 
the  ordeal — and  for  his  mother  and  sisters,  far  more 
than  for  himself.  When  he  began  to  intimate 
something  of  this  feeling  his  mother  promptly  mo 
tioned  to  the  waitress  to  withdraw  from  the  room. 
He  then  soon  learned  that  they  had  not  attended 
church  since  Mrs.  Haldane's  return  from  her  memor 
able  visit  to  Hillaton,  and  that  they  had  no  intention 
of. going  to-day. 

"  The  very  thought  makes  me  turn  faint  and  sick," 
said  the  poor,  weak  gentlewoman. 

"  We  should  feel  like  sinking  through  the  floor  of 
the  aisle,"  chorused  the  pallid  young  ladies. 

Haldane  ceased  partaking  of  his  breakfast  at  once, 
and  leaned  back  in  his  chair. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  he  asked  gloomily,  "  that 
my  folly  has  turned  this  house  into  a  tomb,  and  that 
you  will  bury  yourselves  here  indefinitely  ?  " 

"  Well,"  sighed  the  mother,  "  if  we  live  this  wretch 
ed  life  of  seclusion,  brooding  over  our  troubles  much 
longer,  smaller  tombs  will  suffice  us.  You  see  that 
your  sisters  are  beginning  to  look  like  ghosts,  and 
I'm  sure  I  feel  that  I  can  never  lift  up  my  head 
again.  I  know  it  is  said  that  time  works  wonders. 
Perhaps  if  we  went  abroad  for  a  few  years,  and  then 
resided  in  some  other  city,  or  in  the  seclusion  of 
some  quiet  country  place,  we  might  escape  this — " 
and  Mrs.  Haldane  finished  with  a  sigh  that  was  far 
worse  than  any  words  could  have  been.  After  a 
moment  she  concluded  :  "  But,  of  course,  we  cannot 
go  out  here,  where  all  that  has  happened  is  so  fresh, 
and  uppermost  in  every  one's  mind.  The  more  I 


VOTARIES  OF   THE    WORLD.  385 

* 
think  of  it,  the  more  decided   I  am  that  the  best 

thing  for  us  all  is  to  go  to  some  quiet  watering-place 
in  Europe,  where  there  are  but  few,  if  any,  Ameri 
cans  ;  and  in  time  we  may  feel  differently." 

Her  son  ate  no  more  breakfast.  He  was  begin 
ning  to  realize,  as  he  had  not  before,  that  he  was  in 
a  certain  sense  a  corpse,  which  this  decorous  and 
exquisitely  refined  family  could  not  bury,  but  would 
hide  as  far  as  possible. 

"  You  then  expect  me  to  go  with  you  to  Europe  ?  " 
he  said. 

"  Certainly.  We  could  not  go  without  a  gentle 
man.'* 

"  That  I  scarcely  am  now,  mother,  in  your  esti 
mation  or  in  society's.  I  think  you  could  get  on 
better  without  me." 

"  Now,  Egbert,  be  sensible." 

"  What  am  I  to  do  in  this  secluded  European 
watering-place,  where  there  are  no  Americans,  and 
at  which  we  are  to  sojourn  indefinitely?" 

"  I  am  sure  I  have  not  thought.  Your  sisters,  at 
least,  can  venture  out  and  get  a  breath  of  fresh  air. 
It  is  time  you  thought  of  them  rather  than  of  your 
self.  You  could  amuse  yourself  with  the  natives,  or 
by  fishing  and  hunting." 

"  Mother !  "  he  exclaimed,  impetuously,  "  I  no 
longer  desire  to  merely  amuse  myself.  I  wish  to 
become  a  man,  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word." 

Mrs.  Haldane  evidently  experienced  a  disagree 
able  nervous  shock  at  the  sudden  intensity  of  his 
manner,  but  she  said,  with  rebuking  quietness, 

"  I  am  sure  I  wish  you  to  become  such  a  man, 
17 


386      KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

* 

thoroughly  well  bred,  and  thoroughly  under  self-con 
trol.  It  is  my  purpose  to  enable  you  to  appear 
like  a  perfect  gentleman  from  this  time  forward,  and 
I  expect  that  you  will  be  one." 

11  What  will  I  be  but  a  well-dressed  nonentity  ? 
what  will  I  be  but  a  coward,  seeking  to  get  away 
as  far  as  possible  from  the  place  of  my  defeat,  and 
to  hide  from  its  consequences?"  he  answered,  with 
sharp,  bitter  emphasis. 

"  Egbert,  your  tendency  to  exaggeration  and  vio 
lent  speech  is  more  than  I  can  bear  in  my  weak, 
nervous  condition.  When  you  have  thought  this 
matter  over  calmly,  and  have  realized  how  I  and 
your  sisters  feel,  you  will  see  that  we  are  right — 
that  is,  if  Dr.  Marks  is  correct,  and -you  do  really 
wish  to  atone  for  the  past  as  far  as  it  now  can  be 
done." 

The  young  man  paced  restlessly  up  and  down  the 
room  in  an  agitated  manner,  which  greatly  disqui 
eted  his  mother  and  sisters. 

"  Can  you  not  realize,"  he  at  last  burst  out,  "  that 
I,  also,  have  a  conscience  ?  that  I  am  no  longer  a 
child  ?  and  that  I  cannot  see  things  as  you  do  ?  " 

"  Egbert,"  exclaimed  his  elder  sister,  lifting  her 
hand  deprecatingly,  "we  are  not  deaf." 

"  If  you  will  only  follow  your  conscience,"  con 
tinued  Mrs.  Haldane,  in  her  low  monotone,  ."  all  will 
be  well.  It  is  your  being  carried  away  by  gusts  of 
impulse  and  violent  passions  that  makes  all  the 
trouble.  If  you  had  followed  your  conscience  you 
would  have  at  once  left  Hillaton  at  my  request,  and 
hidden  yourself  in  the  seclusion  that  I  indicated. 


VOTARIES  OF   THE    WORLD.  387 

If  you  had  done  so,  you  might  have  saved  yourself 
and  us  from  all  that  has  since  occurred." 

"  But  I  would  have  lost  my  self-respect.  I  should 
have  done  worse — " 

"  Self-respect !  "  interrupted  his  mother,  with  an 
expression  akin  to  disgust  flitting  across  her  pale 
face.  "  How  can  you  use  that  word  after  what  has 
happened,  and  especially  now  that  you  are  working 
among  those  vulgar  factory  people,  and  living  with 
that  profane  old  creature  who  goes  by  the  name  of 
4  Jerry  Growler.'  To  think  that  you,  who  bear  your 
father's  name,  should  have  fallen  so  low !  The  daily 
and  hourly  mortification  of  thinking  of  all  this,  here, 
where  for  so  many  years  there  was  not  a  speck  upon 
our  family  reputation,  is  more  than  flesh  and  blood 
can  endure.  Our  only  course  now  is  to  go  away 
where  we  are  not  known.  Our  best  hope  is  to  make 
you  appear  like  what  your  father  meant  you  should  be, 
and  try  to  forget  that  you  have  been  any  thing  else; 
and  if  you  have  any  sense  of  obligation  to  us  left 
you  will  do  what  you  can  to  carry  out  our  efforts. 
Dr.  Marks  thinks  you  have  met  with  '  a  change  of 
heart.'  I  am  sure  you  can  prove  it  in  no  better  way 
than  by  a  docile  acquiescence  in  the  wishes  of  one 
who  has  a  natural  right  to  control  you,  and  whose 
teachings,"  she  added  complacently,  "  had  they  been 
followed,  would  have  enabled  you  to  hold  up  your 
head  to-day  among  the  proudest  in  the  land." 

Haldane  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  fairly 
groaned,  in  his  disappointment* and  sense  of  humilia 
tion. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  asked  one  of  his  sisters,  "  that 


388    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

you  thought  that  we  could  all  go  out  to  church  to 
day  as  usual,  and  commence  life  to-morrow  where 
we  left  off  when  you  first  went  away  from  home?" 

"  I  expected  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  her  brother, 
lifting  up  a  face  that  was  pale  from  suppressed  feel 
ing;  "  the  fact  is,  I  have  thought  little  about  all  this 
that  is  uppermost  in  your  minds.  I  have  been  all 
through  the  phase  of  shrinking  from  the  world's 
word  and  touch,  as  if  my  whole  being  were  a  diseased 
nerve.  While  in  that  condition  I  suffered  enough, 
God  knows ;  but  even  in  the  police  court  I  was  not 
made  to  feel  more  thoroughly  that  I  was  a  disgraced 
criminal  than  I  have  been  here,  in  my  childhood's 
home.  Perhaps  you  can't  help  your  feeling;  but 
the  result  is  all  the  same.  Through  the  influence  of 
a  woman  who  belongs  to  heaven  rather  than  earth,  I 
was  led  to  forget  the  world  and  all  about  it ;  I  was  led 
to  wish  to  form  a  good  character  for  its  own  sake.  I 
wanted  to  be  rid  of  the  debasing  vices  of  my  nature 
which  she  had  made  me  hate,  and  which  would 
separate  me  from  such  as  she  is.  I  wanted  your  for 
giveness,  mother.  More  than  all,  I  wanted  God's 
forgiveness,  and  that  great  change  in  my  nature 
which  he  alone  can  bestow.  I  felt  that  Dr.  Marks 
could  help  me,  because  I  believed  in  him  ;  and  he  did 
carry  me,  as  it  were,  to  the  very  gate  of  heaven.  I 
expected,  at  least,  a  little  sympathy  from  you  all,  and 
a  God-speed  as  I  went  back  to  my  work  to-morrow. 
I  even  hoped  that  you  might  take  me  by  the  hand, 
and  say  to  those  wrfo  knew  us  here,  *  My  son  was 
lost,  but  is  found.  He  wishes  to  live  a  manly,  Chris 
tian  life,  and  all  who  are  Christians  should  help  him.' 


VOTARIES  OF   THE    WORLD.  389 

I  find,  on  the  contrary,  that  Christ  and  his  words  are 
forgotten ;  that  I  am  regarded  as  a  hideous  and  de 
formed  creature,  that  must  be  disguised  as  far  as 
possible,  and  spirited  off  to  some  remote  corner  of 
the  earth,  and  there  virtually  buried  alive.  Thus 
different  are  the  teachings  of  the  Bible  and  the  teach 
ings  of  the  world.  I  thought  I  could  not  endure  my 
hard  lot  at  Hillaton  any  longer,  but  I  shall  go  back 
to  it  quite  content." 

As  the  youth  uttered  these  words,  with  his  usual 
impetuosity,  his  mother  could  only  weep  and  tremble 
in  her  weak  and  nervous  way;  but  his  sisters  ex 
claimed  : 

"  Go  back  to  your  old  mill-life  at  Hillaton  !  " 

"  Yes,  by  the  first  train,  to-morrow." 

"  Well !  "  they  chorused,  with  a  long  breath,  but 
as  all  language  seemed  inadequate  they  added  no 
thing  to  their  exclamation. 

Mrs.  Haldane  slowly  wiped  her  eyes,  and  said, 
"Egbert  is  excited  now,  and  does  not  realize  how 
we  feel.  After  he  has  thought  it  all  over  quietly  he 
will  see  things  in  a  different  light,  and  will  perceive 
that  he  should  take  counsel  from  his  mother  rather 
than  from  a  stranger"  (with  peculiar  emphasis  on 
this  word).  "  If  he  really  wishes  to  do  his  duty  as  a 
Christian  man,  he  will  see  that  the  first  and  most 
sacred  obligations  resting  on  him  are  to  us,  and  not 
to  others,  even  though  they  may  be  more  angelic 
than  we  are.  You  promised  last  evening  that  it 
would  be  your  life-effort^,  to  make  amends  for  the 
wrongs  you  have  inflicted  upon  us  ;  and  going  back 
to  your  old,  sordid  life  and  vulgar  associations  would 


390     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

be  a  strange  way  of  keeping  this  pledge.  I  suggest 
that  we  all  retire  to  our  rooms,  and  in  the  after  part 
of  the  day  we  shall  be  calmer,  and  therefore  more 
rational  ;  "  and  the  ladies  quietly  glided  out,  like 
black  shadows.  Indeed,  they  and  their  lives  had 
become  little  more  than  attenuated  shadows. 

There  is  nothing  which  so  thoroughly  depletes 
and  robs  moral  character  of  all  substance — there  is 
nothing  which  so  effectually  destroys  all  robust  in 
dividuality — as  the  continuous  asking  of  the  ques 
tion,  "  What  will  people  say?  " 

Poor  Haldane  went  to  his  room,  and  paced  it 
by  the  hour.  He  had  learned  thus  early  that  the 
Christian  life  was  not  made  up  of  sacred  and  beatific 
emotions,  under  the  influence  of  which  duty  would 
become  an  easy,  sun-illumined  path. 

He  already  was  in  sore  perplexity  as  to  what  his 
duty  was  in  this  instance.  Ought  he  not  to  devote 
himself  to  his  mother  and  sisters,  and  hope  that  time 
would  bring  a  healthful  change  in  their  morbid  feel 
ing?  Surely  what  they  asked  would  not  seem  hard 
in  the  world's  estimation — a  trip  to  Europe,  and  a 
life  of  luxurious  ease  and  amusement — for  society 
would  agree  with  his  mother,  that  he  could  be  as 
good  and  Christian-like  as  he  pleased  in  the  mean 
time.  The  majority  would  say  that  if  he  could  in 
part  make  amends  by  acquiescence  in  so  reasonable 
a  request,  and  one  that  promised  so  much  of  plea 
sure  and  advantage  to  himself,  he  ought  certainly  to 
yield. 

But  all  that  was  good  and  manly  in  the  young 
fellow's  nature  rose  up  against  the  plan.  In  the  first 


VOTARIES  OF   THE    WORLD.  391 

place,  he  instinctively  felt  that  his  mother  and  sis 
ters'  views  on  nearly  all  subjects  would  be  continu 
ally  at  variance  with  his  own,  since  they  were  com 
ing  to  look  at  life  from  such  totally  different  stand 
points.  He  also  believed  that  he  would  be  an  ever- 
present  burden  and  source  of  mortification  to  them. 
As  a  child  and  a  boy  he  had  been  their  idol.  They 
had  looked  forward  to  the  time  when  he,  with  irre 
proachable  manners  and  reputation,  would  become 
their  escort  in  the  exclusive  circles  in  which  they 
were  entitled  to  move.  Now  he  was  and  would  con 
tinue  to  be  the  insuperable  bar  to  those  circles  ;  and 
by  their  sighs  and  manner  he  would  be  continually 
reminded  of  this  fact.  Fallen  idols  are  a  perpetual 
offense  to  their  former  worshipers,  as  they  ever  re 
mind  of  the  downfall  of  towering  hopes. 

With  all  his  faults,  Haldane  had  too  much  spirit 
to  go  through  life  as  one  who  must  be  tolerated,  en 
dured,  kept  in  the  background,  and  concerning  whom 
no  questions  must  be  asked. 

He  did  think  the  matter  over  long  and  carefully, 
and  concluded  that  even  for  his  mother  and  sisters' 
sake  it  would  be  best  that  they  should  live  apart.  If 
he  could  thoroughly  retrieve  his  character  where  he 
had  lost  it,  they  would  be  reconciled  to  him  ;  if  he 
could  not,  he  would  be  less  of  a  burden  and  a  mor 
tification  absent  than  present. 

When  he  considered  his  own  feelings,  the  thought 
of  skulking  and  hiding  through  life  made  his  cheek 
tingle  with  shame  and  disgust.  Conscience  sided 
with  his  inclination  to  go  back  to  his  old,  hard  fight 
at  Hillaton  ;  and  it  also  appeared  to  him  that  he 


392     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

could  there  better  maintain  a  Christian  life,  in  spite 
of  all  the  odds  against  him,  than  by  taking  the  ener 
vating  course  marked  out  by  his  mother.  He  also  re 
membered,  with  a  faint  thrill  of  hope,  that  whatever 
recognition  he  could  get  at  Hillaton  as  a  changed,  a 
better  man,  it  would  be  based  on  the  rock  of  truth. 

He. therefore  concluded  to  go  back  as  he  had  in 
tended,  and  with  the  decision  came  his  former,  hap 
py,  mystical  feeling,  welling  up  in  his  heart  like  the 
sweet  refreshing  waters  of  a  spring,  the  conscious 
ness  of  which  filled  his  heart  with  courage  and  con 
fidence  as  to  the  future. 

41  Surely,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  am  a  changed,  a  con 
verted  man.  These  strange,  sweet  emotions,  this 
unspeakable  gladness  of  heart  in  the  midst  of  so 
much  that  is  painful  and  distracting,  prove  that  I 
am.  I  have  not  taken  this  journey  in  vain." 

Haldane  met  only  his  sisters  at  dinner,  for  the  scene 
of  the  morning  had  prostrated  his  mother  with  a  ner 
vous  headache.  In  spite  of  his  efforts,  it  was  a  con 
strained  and  dismal  affair,  and  all  were  glad  when  it 
was  over. 

In  the  evening  they  all  met  in  Mrs.  Haldane's 
room,  and  the  young  man  told  them  his  decision  so 
firmly  and  quietly  that,  while  they  were  both  sur 
prised  and  angry,  they  saw  it  was  useless  to  remon 
strate.  He  next  drew  such  a  dreary  picture  of  the 
future  as  they  had  designed  it,  that  they  were  half 
inclined  to  think  he  was  right,  and  that  his  presence 
would  be  a  greater  source  of  pain  than  of  comfort 
to  them.  He  also  convinced  them  that  it  would  be 
less  embarrassing  for  them  to  go  to  Europe  alone 


VOTARIES  OF   THE    WORLD.  393 

than   with  his   escort,  and   that  the   plan  of  going 
abroad  need  not  be  given  up. 

But  Mrs.  Haldane  was  strenuous  on  the  point 
that  he  should  leave  Hillaton,  accept  of  her  old  offer, 
and  live  a  quiet,  respectable  life  in  some  retired 
place  where  he  was  not  known. 

"  I  will  not  have  it  said,"  she  persisted,  "  that  my 
son  is  working  as  a  common  factory  hand,  nor  will 
I  have  our  name  associated  with  that  wretched  old 
creature  whose  profanity  and  general  outlandishness 
are  the  town-talk  and  the  constant  theme  of  news 
paper  squibs.  You  at  least  owe  it  to  us  to  let  this 
scandal  die  out  as  speedily  as  possible.  If  you  will 
comply  with  these  most  reasonable  requirements,  I 
will  see  that  you  have  an  abundant  support.  If  you 
will  not,  I  have  no  evidence  of  a  change  in  your  char 
acter  ;  nor  can  I  see  any  better  way  than  to  leave 
you  to  suffer  the  consequences  of  your  folly  until 
you  do  come  to  your  senses." 

"  Mother,  do  you  think  a  young  fellow  of  Tny 
years  and  energy  could  go  to  an  out-of-the-way 
place,  and  just  mope,  eat,  and  sleep  for  the  sake  of 
being  supported  ?  I  would  rather  starve  first.  I 
fear  we  shall  never  understand  each  other;  and  I 
have  reached  that  point  in  life  when  I  must  follow 
my  own  conscience.  I  shall  leave  to-morrow  morn 
ing  before  any  of  you  are  up;  and  in  my  old  work 
ing  clothes.  Good-by  ;  "  and  before  they  could  real 
ize  it  he  had  kissed  them  and  left  the  room. 

They  weakly  sighed  as  over  the  inevitable ;  but 
one  of  his  sisters  said,  "  He  will  be  glad  enough  to 
come  to  your  terms  before  winter." 
17* 


394     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

HUMAN  NATURE. 

AT  an  early  hour  Haldane,  true  to  his  purpose, 
departed  from  the  home  of  his  childhood  in 
the  guise  of  a  laborer,  as  he  had  come.  His  mother 
heard  his  step  on  the  stairs,  for  she  had  passed  a 
sleepless  night,  agitated  by  painful  emotions.  She 
wished  to  call  him  back ;  she  grieved  over  his  course 
as  a  "  dark  and  mysterious  providence,"  as  a  mis 
fortune  which,  like  death,  could  not  be  escaped  ;  but 
with  the  persistency  of  a  little  mind,  capable  of  tak 
ing  but  a  single  and  narrow  view,  she  was  absolutely 
sufe  she  was  right  in  her  course,  and  that  nothing 
but  harsh  and  bitter  experience  would  bring  her  way 
ward  son  to  his  senses. 

Nor  did  it  seem  that  the  harsh  experience  would 
be  wanting,  for  the  morning  was  well  advanced  when 
he  reached  his  place  of  work,  and  he  received  a  severe 
reprimand  from  the  foreman  for  being  so  late.  His 
explanation,  that  he  had  received  permission  to  be 
absent,  was  incredulously  received.  It  also  seemed 
that  gibes,  taunts,  and  sneers  were  flung  at  him  with 
increasing  venom  by  his  ill-natured  associates,  who 
were  vexed  that  they  had  not  been  able  to  drive  him 
away  by  their  persecutions. 


HUMAN  NATURE. 


395 


But  the  object  of  their  spite  was  dwelling  in  a 
world  of  which  they  knew  nothing,  and  in  which 
they  had  no  part,  and,  almost  oblivious  of  their  ex 
istence,  he  performed  his  mechanical  duty  in  almost 
undisturbed  serenity. 

Mr.  Growther  welcomed  him  back  most  heartily, 
and  with  an  air  of  eager  expectation,  and  when  Hal- 
dane  briefly  but  graphically  narrated  his  experience, 
he  hobbled  up  and  down  the  room  in  a  state  of  great 
excitement. 

"  You've  got  it !  you've  got  it !  and  the  genuine 
article,  too,  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Jeremiah  Grow 
ther  !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  I'd  give  the  whole  airth,  and 
any  thing  else  to  boot,  that  was  asked,  if  I  could  only 
git  religion.  But  it's  no  use  for  me  to  think  about 
it  ;  I'm  done,  and  cooled  off,  and  would  break  inter 
ten  thousand  pieces  if  I  tried  to  change  myself.  I 
couldn't  feel  what  you  feel  any  more  than  I  could 
run  and  jump  as  you  kin.  My  moral  j'ints  is  as  stiff 
as  hedge-stakes.  If  I  tried  to  git  up  a  little  of  your 
feelin',  it  would  be  like  tryin'  to  hurry  along  the 
spring  by  buildin*  a  fire  on  the  frozen  ground.  It 
would  only  make  one  little  spot  soft  and  sloppy; 
the  fire  would  soon  go  out :  then  it  would  freeze 
right  up  agin.  Now,  with  you  it's  spring  all  over ; 
you  feel  tender  and  meller-like,  and  every  thing  good 
is  ready  to  sprout.  Well,  well  !  if  I  do  have  to  go 
to  old  Nick  at  last,  I'm  powerful  glad  he's  had  this 
set-back  in  your  case." 

Long  and  earnestly  did  Haldane  try  to  reason  his 
quaint  friend  out  of  his  despairing  views  of  himself. 
At  last  the  old  man  said  testily, 


396     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Now,  look  here;  you're  too  new-fledged  a  saint 
to  instruct  a  seasoned  and  experienced  old  sinner 
like  me.  You  don't  know  much  ab.out  the  Lord's 
ways  yet,  and  I  know  all  about  the  devil's  ways. 
Because  you've  got  out  of  his  clutches  (and  I'm 
mighty  glad  you  have)  you  needn't  make  light  of 
him,  and  take  liberties  with  him  as  if  he  was  nobody, 
'specially  when  Scripter  calls  him  'aroarin'  lion.' 
If  I  was  as  young  as  you  be,  I'd  make  a  dead  set 
to  git  away  from  him  ;  but  after  tryin'  more  times 
than  you've  lived  years,  I  know  it  ain't  no  use.  I 
tell  you  I  can't  feel  as  you  feel,  any  more  than 
you  can  squeeze  water  out  of  them  old  andirons. 
A-a-h !  " 

Haldane  was  silent,  feeling  that  the  old  man's 
spiritual  condition  was  too  knotty  a  problem  for 
him  to  solve. 

After  a  few  moments  Mr.  Growther  added,  in  a 
voice  that  he  meant  to  be  very  solemn  and  impres 
sive  : 

"  But  I  want  you  to  enjoy  your  religious  feelin's 
all  the  same.  I  will  listen  to  all  the  Scripter  readin' 
and  prayin'  you're  willin'  to  do,  without  makin' 
any  disturbance.  Indeed,  I  think  I  will  enjoy  my 
wittles  more,  now  that  an  honest  grace  can  be 
said  over  'em.  An'  when  you  read  the  Bible,  you 
needn't  read  the  cussin'  parts,  if  yer  don't  want  to. 
I'll  read  'em  to  myself  hereafter.  I'll  give  you  all 
the  leeway  that  an  old  curmudgeon  like  myself  kin  ; 
and  I  expect  to  take  a  sight  o'  comfort  in  seein'  you 
goin'  on  your  way  rejoicin'."  *  >,. 

And  he  did  .seem  to  take  as  much  interest  in  the 


HUMAN  NATURE. 


397 


young  .man's  progress  and  new  spiritual  experiences 
as  if  he  alone  were  the  one  interested.  His  efforts 
to  control  his  irritability  and  profanity  were  both 
odd  and  pathetic,  and  Haldane  would  sometimes 
hear  him  swearing  softly  to  himself,  with  strange 
contortions  of  his  wrinkled  face,  when  in  former 
times  he  would  have  vented  his  spite  in  the  harsh 
est  tones. 

Haldane  wrote  fully  to  Mrs.  Arnot  of  his  visit  to 
his  native  city  and  its  happy  results,  and  enlarged 
upon  his  changed  feelings  as  the  proof  that  he  was 
a  changed  man. 

Her  reply  was  prompt,  and  was  filled  with  the 
warmest  congratulations  and  expressions  of  the  sin- 
cerest  sympathy.  It  also  contained  these  words  : 

"  I  fear  that  you  are  dwelling  too  largely  upon 
your  feelings  and  experiences,  and  are  giving  to 
them  a  value  they  do  not  possess.  Not  that  I  would 
undervalue  them — they  are  gracious  tokens  of  God's 
favor ;  but  they  are  not  the  grounds  of  your  salva 
tion  and  acceptance  with  God." 

Haldane  did  not  believe  that  they  were — he  had 
been  too  well  taught  for  that — but  he  regarded  them 
as  the  evidences  that  he  was  accepted,  that  he  was  a 
Christian  ;  and  he  expected  them  to  continue,  and 
to  bear  him  forward,  and  through  and  over  the  pecu 
liar  trials  of  his  lot,  as  on  a  strong  and  shining  tide. 

Mrs.  Arnot  also  stated  that  she  was  just  on  the 
eve  of  leaving  home  for  a  time,  and  that  on  her  re 
turn  she  would  see  him  and  explain  more  fully  her 
meaning. 

In  conclusion,  she  wrote :  "  I  think  you  did  what 


398     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH   CENTURY. 

was  right  and  best  in  returning  to  Hillaton.  At 
any  rate,  you  have  reached  that  age  when  you  must 
obey  your  own  conscience,  and  can  no  longer  place 
the  responsibility  of  your  action  upon  others.  But, 
remember,  that  you  owe  to  your  mother  the  most 
delicate  forbearance  and  consideration.  You  should 
write  to  her  regularly,  and  seek  to  prove  that  you 
are  guided  by  principle  rather  than  impulse.  Your 
mother  has  much  reason  to  feel  as  she  does,  and 
nothing  can  excuse  you  from  the  sacred  duties  you 
owe  to  her." 

Haldane  did  write  as  Mrs.  Arnot  suggested.  In 
a  few  days  he  received  the  following  letter  from  his 
mother: 

"  We  shall  sail  for  Europe  as  soon  as  we  can  get  ready  for  the 
journey.  Our  lawyer  is  making  all  the  necessary  arrangements  for 
us.  I  will  leave  funds  with  him,  and  whenever  you  are  ready  in 
good  faith  to  accept  my  offer,  leave  Hillaton,  and  live  so  that  this 
scandal  can  die  out,  you  can  obtain  from  him  the  means  of  living 
decently  and  quietly.  As  it  is,  I  live  in  daily  terror  lest  you  again  do 
something  which  will  bring  our  name  into  the  Hillaton  papers  ;  and, 
of  course,  every  thing  is  copied  by  the  press  of  this  city.  Will  the 
time  ever  come  when  you  will  consider  your  mother's  and  sisters' 
feelings  ?  " 

For  a  time  all  went  as  well  as  could  be  expected 
in  the  trying  circumstances  of  Haldane's  life.  His 
prayers  for  strength  and  patience  were  at  first  ear 
nest,  and  their  answers  seemed  assured — so  assured, 
indeed,  that  in  times  of  haste  and  weariness  prayer 
eventually  came  to  be  hurried  or  neglected.  Before 
he  was  aware  of  it,  feeling  began  to  ebb  away.  He 
at  last  became  troubled,  and  then  alarmed,  and  made 
great  effort  to  regain  his  old,  happy  emotions  and 


HUMAN  NATURE.  399 

experiences;  but,  like  an  outgoing  tide,  feeling  ebbed 
steadily  away. 

His  face  indicated  his  disquiet  and  anxiety,  for  he 
felt  like  one  who  was  clinging  to  a  rope  that  was 
slowly  parting,  strand  by  strand. 

Keen-eyed  Mr.  Growther  watched  him  closely,  and 
was  satisfied  that  something  was  amiss.  He  was 
much  concerned,  and  took  not  a  little  of  the  blame 
upon  himself. 

"  How  can  a  man  be  a  Christian,  or  any  thing  else 
that's  decent,  when  he  keeps  such  cussed  company 
as  I  be? "he  muttered.  "I  s'pose  I  kinder  pisen 
and  wither  up  his  good  feelin's  like  a  sulphuric  acid 
fact'ry." 

One  evening  he  exclaimed  to  Haldane,  "  I  say, 
young  man,  you  had  better  pull  out  o'  here." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I'll  give  you  a  receipt  in  full  and  a  good  charac 
ter,  and  then  you  look  for  a  healthier  boardin'-place." 

"  Ah,  I  see !     You  wish  to  be  rid  of  me  ?  " 

"  No,  you  don't  see,  nuther.  I  wish  you  to  be 
rid  of  me." 

"  Of  course,  if  you  wish  me  to  go,  I'll  go  at  once," 
said  Haldane,  in  a  despondent  tone. 

"  And  go  off  at  half-cock  into  the  bargain?  I 
ain't  one  of  the  kind,  you  know,  that  talks  around 
Robin  Hood's  barn.  I  go  straight  in  at  the  front 
door  and  out  at  the  back.  It's  my  rough  way  of 
coming  to  the  p'int  at  once.  I  kin  see  that  you're 
runnin'  behind  in  speret'al  matters,  and  I  believe 
that  my  cussedness  is  part  to  blame.  You  don't  feel 
good  as  you  used  to.  It  would  never  do  to  git  down 


400     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

at  the  heel  in  these  matters,  'cause  the  poorest  tim 
ber  in  the  market  is  yer  old  backsliders.  I'd  rather 
be  what  I  am  than  be  a  backslider.  The  right  way 
is  to  take  these  things  in  time,  before  you  git  agoin' 
down  hill  too  fast.  It  isn't  that  I  want  to  git  rid  of 
you  at  all.  I've  kinder  got  used  to  you,  and  like  to 
have  you  'round  'mazingly;  but  I  don't  s'pose  it's 
possible  for  you  to  feel  right  and  live  with  me,  and  so 
you  had  better  cut  stick  in  time,  for  you  must  keep 
a-feelin'  good  and  pi'us-like,  my  boy,  or  it's  all  up 
with  you." 

"  Then  you  don't  want  me  to  go  for  the  sake  of 
your  own  comfort?" 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  only  want  you  to  git  inter  a 
place  that  isn't  so  morally  pisened  as  this,  where  I 
do  so  much  cussin' ;  for  I  will  and  must  cuss  as  long 
as  there's  an  atom  left  of  me  as  big  as  a  head  of  a 
pin.  A-a-h  !  " 

"  Then  I  prefer  to  take  my  chances  with  you  to 
going  anywhere  else." 

"Think  twice." 

"  I  have  thought  more  than  twice." 

"  Then  yer  blood  be  on  yer  own  head,"  said  Mr. 
Growther  with  tragic  solemnity,  as  if  he  were  about 
to  take  Haldane's  life.  "  My  skirts  is  clear  after  this 
warnin'." 

"  Indeed  they  are.  You  haven't  done  me  a  bit  of 
harm." 

"  Where  does  the  trouble  come  from  then  ?  Who 
is  a-harmin'  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  Mr.  Growther,"  said  Haldane,  wearily, 
"  I  hardly  know  what  is  the  matter.  I  am  losing 


HUMAN  NA  TURE.  401- 

zest  and  courage  unaccountably.  My  old,  happy 
and  hopeful  feelings  are  about  all  gone,  and  in  their 
place  all  sorts  of  evil  thoughts  seem  to  be  swarming 
into  my  mind.  I  have  tried  to  keep  all  this  to  myself, 
but  I  have  become  so  wretched  that  I  must  speak. 
Mrs.  Arnot  is  away,  or  she  might  help  me,  as  she 
ever  does.  I  wish  that  I  felt  differently  ;  I  pray  that 
I  may,  but  in  spite  of  all  I  seem  drifting  back  to 
my  old  miserable  self.  Every  day  I  fear  that  I  shall 
have  trouble  at  the  mill.  When  I  felt  so  strong 
and  happy  I  did  not  mind  what  they  said.  One  day 
I  was  asked  by  a  workman,  who  is  quite  a  decent 
fellow,  how  I  stood  it  all?  and  I  replied  that  I  stood 
it  as  any  well-meaning  Christian  man  could.  My 
implied  assertion  that  I  was  a  Christian  was  taken 
up  as  a  great  joke,  and  now  they  call  me  the  '  pi'us 
jail-bird.'  As  long  as  I  felt  at  heart  that  I  was  a 
Christian,  I  did  not  care;  but  now  their  words  gall 
me  to  the  quick.  I  do  not  know  what  to  think.  It 
seems  to  me  that  if  any  one  ever  met  with  a  change 
I  did.  I'm  sure  I  wish  to  feel  now  as  I  did  then  ; 
but  I  grow  worse  every  day.  I  am  losing  self-con 
trol  and  growing  irritable.  This  evening,  as  I  passed 
liquor  saloons  on  my  way  home,  my  old  appetite  for 
drink  seemed  as  strong  as  ever.  What  does  it  all 
mean  ?  " 

Mr.  Growther's  wrinkled  visage  worked  curiously, 
and  at  last  he  said  in  a  tone  and  manner  that 
betokened  the  deepest  distress  : 

"  I'm  awfully  afeerd  you're  a-backslidin'." 
"  I  wish  I  had  never  been  born,"  exclaimed  the 
youth,  passionately,  "  for  I  am  a  curse  to  myself  and 


402     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

all  connected  with  me.  I  know  I  shall  have  trouble 
with  one  man  at  the  mill ;  I  can  see  it  coming,  and 
then,  of  course,  I  shall  be  discharged.  I  seem  des 
tined  to  defeat  in  this  my  last  attempt  to  be  a  man, 
and  I  shall  never  have  the  courage  or  hope  to  try 
again.  If  I  do  break  down  utterly,  I  feel  as  if  I  will 
become  a  very  devil  incarnate.  O  !  how  I  wish  that 
Mrs.  Arnot  was  home." 

"  Now  this  beats  me  all  out,"  said  Mr.  Growther, 
in  great  perplexity.  "  A  while  ago  you  felt  like 
a  saint  and  acted  like  one,  now  you  talk  and  act 
as  if  Old  Nick  and  all  his  imps  had  got  a  hold 
on  ye.  How  do  you  explain  all  this,  for  it  beats 
me?" 

"  I  don't  and  can't  explain.  But  here  are  the 
facts,  and  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  them?" 

"  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  do  nothin'  with  'em  except  cuss 
'em;  and  that's  all  I  kin  do  in  any  case.  You've 
got  beyond  my  depth." 

The  sorely  tempted  youth  could  obtain  but  little 
aid  and  comfort,  therefore,  from  his  quaint  old  friend, 
and,  equally  perplexed  and  unable  to  understand 
himself,  he  sought  to  obtain  such  rest  as  his  dis 
quieted  condition  permitted. 

As  a  result  of  wakefulness  in  the  early  part  of  the 
night,  he  slept  late  the  following  morning,  and.  has 
tened  to  his  work  with  scarcely  a  mouthful  of  break 
fast.  He  was  thus  disqualified,  physically  as  well 
as  mentally,  for  the  ordeal  of  the  day. 

He  was  a  few  minutes  behind  time,  and  a  sharp 
reprimand  from  the  foreman  rasped  his  already  jan 
gling  nerves.  But  he  doggedly  set  -his  teeth,  and  re- 


HUMAN  NATURE.  403 

solved  to  see  and  hear  nothing  save  that  which  per 
tained  to  his  work. 

He  might  have  kept  his  resolve  had  there  been 
nothing  more  to  contend  with  than  the  ordinary 
verbal  persecution;  but  late  in  the  afternoon,  when 
he  had  grown  weary  from  the  strain  of  the  day,  his 
special  tormentor,  a  burly  Irishman,  took  occasion, 
in  passing,  to  push  him  rudely  against  a  pert  and  slat 
tern  girl,  who  also  was  foremost  in  the  tacit  league 
of  petty  annoyance.  She  acted  as  if  the  contact 
of  Haldane's  person  was  a  purposed  insult,  and  re 
sented  it  by  a  sharp  slap  of  his  face. 

Her  stinging  stroke  was  like  a  spark  to  a  maga 
zine  ;  but  paying  no  heed  to  her,  he  sprang  toward 
her  laughing  ally  with  fierce  oaths  upon  his  lips,  and 
by  a  single  blow  sent  him  reeling  to  the  floor.  The 
machinery  was  stopped  sharply,  as  far  as  possible, 
by  the  miscellaneous  work-people,  to  whom  a  fight 
was  a  boon  above  price,  and  with  shrill  and  clamor 
ous  outcries  they  gathered  round  the  young  man 
where  he  stood,  panting,  like  a  wounded  animal  at 
bay. 

His  powerful  antagonist  was  speedily  upon  his 
feet,  and  at  once  made  a  rush  for  the  youth  who  had 
so  unexpectedly  turned  upon  him  ;  and  though  he 
received  another  heavy  blow,  his  onset  was  so  strong 
that  he  was  able  to  close  with  Haldane,  and  thus 
made  the  conflict  a  mere  trial  of  brute  force. 

As  Haldane  afterward  recalled  the  scene,  he  was 
conscious  that  at  the  time  he  felt  only  rage,  and  a 
mad  desire  to  destroy  his  opponent. 

In  strength  they  were  quite  evenly  matched,  and 


404     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

after  a  moment's  struggle  both  fell  heavily,  and  Hal- 
dane  was  able  to  disengage  himself.  As  the  Irish 
man  rose,  and  was  about  to  renew  the  fight,  he 
struck  him  so  tremendous  a  blow  on  the  temple  that 
the  man  went  to  the  floor  as  if  pierced  by  a  bullet, 
and  lay  there  stunned  and  still. 

When  Haldane  saw  that  his  antagonist  did  not 
move,  time  was  given  him  to  think  ;  he  experienced 
a  terrible  revulsion.  He  remembered  his  profanity 
and  brutal  rage,  he  felt  that  he  had  broken  down 
utterly.  He  was  overwhelmed  by  his  moral  defeat, 
and  covering  his  face  with  his  hands,  he  groaned 
"  Lost,  lost !  " 

"  By  jocks,"  exclaimed  a  rude,  half-grown  fellow, 
"  that  clip  would  have  felled  an  ox." 

"Do  you  think  he's  dead?"  asked  the  slattern 
girl,  now  thoroughly  alarmed  at  the  consequences  of 
the  blow  she  had  given. 

"  Dead  !  "  cried  Haldane,  catching  the  word,  and, 
pushing  all  aside,  he  knelt  over  his  prostrate  foe. 

"Water,  bring  water,  for  God's  sake!"  he  said 
eagerly,  lifting  up  the  unconscious  man. 

It  was  brought  and  dashed  in  his  face.  A  mo 
ment  later,  to  Haldane's  infinite  relief,  he  revived, 
and  after  a  bewildered  stare  at  the  crowd  around 
him,  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  youth  who  had  dealt  the 
blow,  and  then  a  consciousness  of  all  that  had  oc 
curred  seemed  to  return.  He  showed  his  teeth  in 
impotent  rage  for  a  moment,  as  some  wild  animal 
might  have  done,  and  then  rose"  unsteadily  to  his 
feet. 

"  Go  back  to  your  work,  all  on  ye,"  thundered  the 


HUMAN  NA  TURE.  405 

foreman,  who,  now  that  the  sport  was  over,  was  bent 
on  making  a  great  show  of  his  zeal ;  "  as  for  you  two 
bull-dogs,  you  shall  pay  dearly  for  this ;  and  let  me 
say  to  you,  Mister  Haldane,  that  the  pious  dodge 
won't  answer  any  longer." 

A  moment  later,  with  the  exception  of  flushed 
faces  and  excited  whisperings,  the  large  and  crowd 
ed  apartment  wore  its  ordinary  aspect,  and  the  ma 
chinery  clanked  on  as  monotonously  as  ever. 

Almost  as  mechanically  Haldane  moved  in  the 
routine  of  his  labor,  but  the  bitterness  of  despair  was 
in  his  heart. 

He  forgot  that  he  would  probably  be  discharged 
that  day;  he  forgot  that  a  dark  and  uncertain  future 
was  before  him.  He  only  remembered  his  rage  and 
profanity,  and  they  seemed  to  him  damning  proofs 
that  all  he  had  felt,  hoped,  and  believed  was  delu 
sion. 


406    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER   XLI. 
MRS.  ARNOT'S  CREED. 

WHEN  Haldane  entered  the  cottage  that  even 
ing  his  eyes  were  blood-shot  and  his  face 
so  haggard  that  Mr.  Growther  started  out  of  his 
chair,  exclaiming, 

".Lord  a*  massy!  what's  the  matter?  " 

"  Matter  enough,"  replied  the  youth,  with  a  reck 
less  oath.  "  The  worst  that  I  feared  has  happened." 

"  What's  happened?"  asked  the  old  man  excitedly. 

"  I've  been  fighting  in  the  work-room  like  a  bull 
dog,  and  swearing  like  a  pirate.  That's  the  kind  of 
a  Christian  I  am,  and  always  will  be.  What  I  was 
made  for,  I  don't  see,"  he  added,  as  he  threw  him 
self  into  a  chair. 

"  Well,  well,  well !"  said  Mr.  Growther  dejectedly; 
"  I  was  in  hopes  she'd  git  here  in  time  ;  but  I'm 
afeered  you've  just  clean  backslid." 

"  No  kind  of  doubt  on  that  score,"  replied  the 
young  man,  with  a  bitter  laugh ;  "  though  I  now 
think  I  never  had  very  far  to  slide.  And  yet  it  all 
seems  wrong  and  unjust.  Why  should  my  hopes  be 
raised  ?  why  should  such  feelings  be  inspired,  if  this 
was  to  be  the  end?  If  I  was  foreordained  to  go 
to  the  devil,  why  must  an  aggravating  glimpse  of 
heaven  be  given  me  ?  I  say  it's  all  cruel  and 


MRS.  A  KNOT'S  CREED.  407 

wrong.  But  what's  the  use !  Come,  let's  have  sup 
per,  one  must  eat  as  long  as  he's  in  the  body." 

It  was  a  silent  and  dismal  meal,  and  soon  over. 
Then  Haldane  took  his  hat  without  a  word. 

"  Where  are  you  goin'?"  asked  Mr.  Growther, 
anxiously. 

"  I  neither  know  nor  care.'* 

"Don't  go  out  to-night,  I  expect  somebody." 

"Who,  in  the  name  of  wonder?" 

"  Mrs.  Arnot." 

"  I  could  as  easily  face  an  angel  of  light  now  as 
Mrs.  Arnot,"  he  replied,  pausing  on  the  threshold  ; 
for  even  in  his  reckless  mood  the  old  man's  wistful 
face  had  power  to  restrain. 

"  You  are  'mistaken,  Egbert,"  said  a  gentle  voice 
behind  him.  "You  can  face  me  much  more  easily 
than  an  angel  of  light.  I  am  human  like  yourself, 
and  your  friend." 

She  had  approached  the  open  door  through  the 
dusk  of  the  mild  autumn  evening,  and  had  heard  his 
words.  He  trembled  at  her  voice,  but  ventured  no 
reply. 

"  I  have  come  to  see  you,  Egbert ;  you  will  not 
leave  me." 

"  Mrs.  Arnot,"  he  said  passionately,  "  T  am  not 
worth  the  trouble  you  take  in  my  behalf,  and  I  might 
as  well  tell  you  at  once  that  it  is  in  vain." 

u  I  do  not  regard  what  I  do  for  you  as  *  trouble/ 
and  I  know  it  is  not  in  vain,"  she  replied,  with  calm, 
clear  emphasis. 

Her  manner  quieted  him  somewhat ;  but  after  a 
moment  he  said, 


4o8     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  You  do  not  know  what  has  happened  to-day, 
nor  how  I  have  been  feeling  for  many  days  past." 

"  Your  manner  indicates  how  you  feel;  and  you 
may  tell  me  what  has  happened  if  you  wish.  If  you 
prefer  that  we  should  be  alone,  come  with  me  to  my 
carriage,  and  in  the  quiet  of  my  private  parlor  you 
can  tell  me  all." 

"  No,"  said  Haldane  gloomily  ;  "  I  am  not  fit  to 
enter  your  house,  and  for  other  reasons  would  ra 
ther  not  do  so.  I  have  no  better  friend  than  Mr. 
Growther,  and  he  already  knows  it  all.  I  may 
as  well  tell  you  here ;  that  is,  if  you  are  willing  to 
stay/' 

"  I  came  to  stay,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot  quietly ;  and 
sitting  down,  she  turned  a  grave  and  expectant  face 
toward  him. 

"  I  cannot  find  words  in  which  to  tell  you  my 
shame,  and  the  utterness  of  my  defeat." 

"Yes,  you  can,  Egbert.  I  believe  that  you  have 
always  told  me  the  truth  about  yourself." 

11  I  have,  and  I  will  again,"  he  said  desperately ; 
"  and  yet  it  seems  like  profanation  to  describe  such 
a  scene  to  you."  But  he  did  describe  it,  briefly  and 
graphically,  nevertheless.  As  he  spoke  of  his  last 
fierce  blow,  which  vanquished  his  opponent,  Mr. 
Growther  muttered, 

"  Served  him  right ;  can't  help  feelin'  glad  you 
hit  'im  so  hard ;  but  then  that's  in  keepin'  with  the 
cussedness  of  my  natur'." 

A  glimmer  of  a  smile  hovered  around  Mrs.  Ar- 
not's  flexible  mouth,  but  she  only  asked  quietly, 

"  Is  that  all  ?  " 


MRS.  A  KNOT'S  CREED.  409 

"  I  should  think  that  was  enough,  after  all  that  I 
had  felt  and  professed." 

"  I  fear  I  shall  shock  you,  Egbert,  but  I  am  not 
very  much  surprised  at  your  course.  Indeed  I  think 
it  was  quite  natural,  in  view  of  the  circumstances. 
Perhaps  my  nature  is  akin  to  Mr.  Growther's,  for 
I  am  rather  glad  that  fellow  was  punished  ;  and  I 
think  it  was  very  natural  for  you  to  punish  him  as 
you  did.  So  far  from  despairing  of  you,  I  am  the 
more  hopeful  of  you." 

"Mrs.  Arnot !  "  exclaimed  the  youth  in  undis 
guised  astonishment. 

"  Now  do  not  jump  to  hasty  and  false  conclu 
sions  from  my  words;  I  do  not  say  that  your  action 
was  right.  In  the  abstract  it  was  decidedly  wrong, 
and  for  your  language  there  is  no  other  excuse  save 
that  an  old,  bad  habit  asserted  itself  at  a  time 
when  you  had  lost  self-control.  I  am  dealing  leni 
ently  with  you,  Egbert,  because  it  is  a  trick  of  the 
adversary  to  tempt  to  despair  as  well  as  to  over-con 
fidence.  At  the  same  time  I  speak  sincerely.  You 
are  and  have  been  for  some  time  in  a  morbid  state 
of  mind.  Let  my  simple  common-sense  come  to 
your  aid  in  this  emergency.  The  very  conditions 
under  which  you  have  been  working  at  the  mill  im 
posed  a  continuous  strain  upon  your  nervous  power. 
You  were  steadily  approaching  a  point  where  mere 
human  endurance  would  give  way.  Mark,  I  do  not 
say  that  you  might  not  have  been  helped  to  endure 
longer,  and  to  endure  every  thing;  but  mere  human 
nature  could  not  have  endured  it  much  longer.  It  is 

often  wiser  to  shun  certain  temptations,  if  we  can,  than 

18 


4io     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

to  meet  them.  You  could  not  do  this  ;  and  if,  taking 
into  account  all  the  circumstances,  you  could  have 
tamely  submitted  to  this  insult,  which  was  the  cul 
mination  of  long-continued  and  exasperating  injury, 
I  should  have  doubted  whether  you  possessed  the 
material  to  make  a  strong,  forceful  man.  Of  course, 
if  you  often  give  way  to  passion  in  this  manner,  you 
would  be  little  better  than  a  wild  beast ;  but  for 
weeks  you  had  exercised  very  great  forbearance  and 
self-control — for  one  of  your  temperament,  remark 
able  self-control — and  I  respect  you  for  it.  We  are 
as  truly  bound  to  be  just  to  ourselves  as  to  others. 
Your  action  was  certainly  wrong,  .and  I  would  be 
deeply  grieved  and  disappointed  if  you  continued 
to  give  way  to  such  ebullitions  of  passion ;  but 
remembering  your  youth,  and  all  that  has  hap 
pened  since  spring,  and  observing  plainly  that  you 
are  in  an  unhealthful  condition  of  mind  and  body, 
I  think  your  course  was  very  natural  indeed, 
and  that  you  have  no  occasion  for  such  despond 
ency." 

"  Yes,"  put  in  Mr.  Growther  ;  "  and  he  went  away 
without  his  breakfast,  and  it  was  mighty  little  he 
took  for  lunch;  all  men  are  savages  when  they 
haven't  eaten  any  thing." 

"  Pardon  me,  Mrs.  Arnot,"  said  Haldane  gloomily, 
"  all  this  does  not  meet  the  case  at  all.  I  had  been 
hoping  that  I  was  a  Christian  ;  what  is  more,  it 
seems  to  me  that  I  had  had  the  feelings  and  experi 
ences  of  a  Christian." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say  against  that,"  said  the 
lady  quietly  ;  "  I  am  very  glad  that  you  had." 


MRS.  ARNOT S   CREED. 


411 


"  After  what  has  occurred  what  right  have  I  to 
think  myself  a  Christian  ?  " 

"  As  good  a  right  as  multitudes  of  others." 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Arnot,  that  seems  to  me  to  be  con 
trary  to  reason." 

"  It  is  not  contrary  to  fact.  Good  people  in  the 
Bible,  good  people  in  history,  and  to  my  personal 
knowledge,  too,  have  been  left  to  do  outrageously 
wrong  things.  To  err  is  human  ;  and  we  are  all  very 
human,  Egbert." 

"  But  I  don't  feel  that  I  am  a  Christian  any 
longer,"  he  said  sadly. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  not,  and  never  were.  But  this 
is  a  question  that  you  can  never  settle  by  consulting 
your  own  feelings." 

"  Then  how  can  I  settle  it  ? "  was  the  eager  re 
sponse. 

"  By  settling  fully  and  finally  in  your  mind  what 
relation  you  will  sustain  to  Jesus  Christ.  He  offers 
to  be  your  complete  Saviour  from  sin.  Will  you  ac 
cept  of  him  as  such  ?  He  offers  to  be  your  divine 
and  unerring  guide  and  example  in  your  every-day 
life.  Will-you  accept  of  him  as  such  ?  Doing  these 
two  things  in  simple  honesty  and  to  the  best  of  our 
ability  is  the  only  way  to  be  a  Christian  that  I  know 
of." 

"  Is  that  all?"  muttered  Mr.  Growther,  rising 
for  a  moment  from  his  chair  in  his  deep  interest  in 
her  words.  She  gave  him  an  encouraging  smile,  and 
then  turned  to  Haldane  again. 

"  Mrs.  Arnot,"  he  said,  "  I  know  that  you  are  far 
wiser  in  these  matters  than  I,  and  yet  I  am  bewil- 


4I2     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

dered.  The  Bible  says  we  must  be  converted  ;  that 
we  must  be  born  again.  It  seems  to  require  some 
great,  mysterious  change  that  shall  renew  our  whole 
nature.  And  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  experienced 
that  change.  It  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  de 
scribe  to  you  my  emotions.  They  were  sincere  and 
profound.  They  stirred  the  very  depths  of  my  soul, 
and  under  their  influence  it  was  a  joy  to  worship 
God  and  to  do  his  will.  Had  I  not  a  right  to  believe 
that  the  hour  in  which  I  first  felt  those  glad  thrills 
of  faith  and  love  was  the  hour  of  my  conversion  ?  " 

'*  You  had  a  right  to  hope  it." 

"  But  now,  to-day,  when  every  bad  passion  has  been 
uppermost  in  my  heart,  what  reason  have  I  to  hope  ?  " 

"  None  at  all,  looking  to  yourself  and  to  your 
varying  emotions." 

"  Mrs.  Arnot,  I  am  bewildered.  I  am  all  at  sea. 
The  Bible,  as  interpreted  by  Dr.  Barstow  and  Dr. 
Marks,  seems  to  require  so  much  ;  and  what  you 
say  is  required  is  simplicity  itself." 

"  If  you  will  listen  patiently,  Egbert,  I  will  give 
you  my  views,  and  I  think  they  are  correct,  for  I 
endeavor  to  take  them  wholly  from  the  Bible.  That 
which  God  requires  is  simplicity  itself,  and  yet  it  is 
very  much  ;  it  is  infinite.  In  the  first  place,  one 
must  give  up  self-righteousness — not  self-respect, 
mark  you — but  mere  spiritual  self-conceit,  which  is 
akin  to  the  feeling  of  some  vulgar  people  who  think 
they  are  good  enough  to  associate  with  those  who 
are  immeasurably  beyond  them,  but  whose  superi 
ority  they  are  too  small  to  comprehend.  We  must 
come  to  God  in  the  spirit  of  a  little  child ;  and  then. 


MRS.  ARNO  T ' S  CREED.  4x3 

as  if  we  were  children,  he  will  give  to  us  a  natural 
and  healthful  growth  in  the  life  that  resembles  his 
own.  This  is  the  simplest  thing  that  can  be  done, 
and  all  can  do  it ;  but  how  many  are  trying  to  work 
out  their  salvation  by  some  intricate  method  of  hu 
man  device,  and,  stranger  still,  are  very  complacent 
over  the  mechanical  and  abnormal  results  !  All  such 
futile  efforts,  of  which  many  are  so  vain,  must  be 
cast  aside.  Listen  to  Christ's  own  words  :  *  Learn  of 
me,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart/  He  who 
would  enter  upon  the  Christian  life,  must  come  to 
Christ  as  the  true  scientist  sits  at  the  feet  of  nature, 
— docile,  teachable,  eager  to  learn  truth  that  existed 
long  before  he  was  born,  and  not  disposed  to  thrust 
forward  some  miserable  little  system  of  his  own. 
Nothing  could  be  simpler,  easier,  or  more  pleasing 
to  Christ  himself  than  the  action  of  Mary  as  she  sat 
at  his  feet  and  listened  to  him  ;  but  many  are  like 
Martha,  and  are  bustling  about  in  his  service  in 
ways  pleasing  to  themselves  ;  and  it  is  very  hard  for 
them  to  give  up  their  own  way.  I've  had  to  give  up 
a  great  deal  in  my  time,  and  perhaps  you  will. 

"  In  addition  to  all  trust  in  ourselves,  in  what  we 
are  and  what  we  have  done,  we  must  turn  away 
from  what  we  have  felt;  and  here  I  think  I  touch 
your  present  difficulties.  We  are  not  saved  by  the 
emotions  of  our  own  hearts,  however  sacred  and 
delightful  they  may  seem.  Nor  do  they  always  in 
dicate  just  what  we  are  and  shall  be.  A  few  weeks 
since  you  thought  your  heart  had  become  the  abid 
ing-place  of  all  that  was  good  ;  now,  it  seems  to  you 
to  be  possessed  by  evil.  This  is  common  experience  ; 


414     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

at  one  time  the  Psalmist  sings  in  rapturous  de 
votion  ;  again,  he  is  wailing  in  penitence  over  one 
of  the  blackest  crimes  in  history.  Peter  is  on  the 
Mount  of  Transfiguration  ;  again,  he  is  denying  his 
master  with  oaths  and  curses.  Even  good  men  vary 
as  widely  as  this ;  but  Christ  is  '  the  same,  yesterday, 
to-day,  and  forever.'  By  good  men  I  mean  simply 
those  who  are  sincerely  wishing  and  trying  to  obtain 
mastery  over  the  evil  of  their  natures.  If  you  still 
wish  to  do  this,  I  have  abundant  hope  for  you, — as 
much  hope  as  ever  I  had." 

"  Of  what  value,    then,   were  all   those   strange,, 
happy  feelings  which  I  regarded  as  the  proofs   of 
my  conversion  ?  "  Haldane  asked,  with  the  look  of 
deep  perplexity  still  upon  his  face. 

"  Of  very  great  value,  if  you  look  upon  them  in 
their  true  light.  They  were  evidences  of  God's  love 
and  favor.  They  showed  how  kindly  disposed  he  is 
toward  you.  They  can  prove  to  you  how  abundantly 
able  he  is  to  reward  all  trust  and  service,  giving 
foretastes  of  heavenly  bliss  even  in  the  midst  of 
earthly  warfare.  The  trouble  has  been  with  you,  as 
with  so  many  others,  that  you  have  been  consulting 
your  variable  emotions  instead  of  looking  simply 
to  Christ,  the  author  and  finisher  of  our  faith.  Be 
sides,  the  power  is  not  given  to  us  to  maintain  an 
equable  flow  of  feeling  for  any  considerable  length 
of  time.  We  react  from  exaltation  into  depres 
sion  inevitably.  Our  feelings  depend  largely  also 
upon  earthly  causes  and  our  physical  condition, 
and  we  can  never  be  absolutely  sure  how  far  they 
are  the  result  of  the  direct  action  of  God's  Spirit 


MRS.  ARNOT'S  CREED.  415 

upon  our  minds.  It  is  God's  plan  to  work  through 
simple,  natural  means,  so  that  we  may  not  be  look 
ing  and  waiting  for  the  supernatural.  And  yet  it 
would  seem  that  many  are  so  irrational  that,  when 
they  find  mere  feeling  passing  away,  they  give  up 
their  hope  and  all  relationship  to  Christ,  acting  as 
if  the  immutable  love  of  God  were  changing  with 
their  flickering  emotions." 

"  I  have  been  just  so  irrational,"  said  Haldane  in 
a  low,  deep  tone. 

"Then  settle  it  now  and  forever,  my  dear  young 
friend,  that  Jesus  Christ,  who  died  to  save  you, 
wishes  to  save  you  every  day  and  all  the  days  of 
your  life.  He  does  not  change  a  hair's  breadth  from 
the  attitude  indicated  in  the  words,  '  Come  unto 
me  ;  and  whosoever  cometh  unto  me  I  will  in  no 
wise  cast  out.'" 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  he  feels  that  way  toward 
me  all  the  time,  in  spite  of  all  my  cantankerous 
moods?"  asked  Mr.  Growther  eagerly. 

"  Most  certainly." 

"  I  wouldn't  a'  thought  it  if  I'd  lived  a  thousand 
years." 

"What,  then,  is  conversion?"  asked  Haldane, 
feeling  as  if  he  were  being  led  safely  out  of  a  laby 
rinth  in  which  he  had  lost  himself. 

"  In  my  view  it  is  simply  turning  away  from 
every  thing  to  Christ  as  the  sole  ground  of  our  sal 
vation  and  as  our  divine  guide  and  example  in 
Christian  living." 

"  But  how  can  we  ever  know  that  we  are  Chris 
tians?  " 


4 1 6'    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

11  Only  by  the  honest,  patient,  continued  effort  to 
obey  his  brief  command,  '  Follow  me/  We  may 
follow  near,  or  we  may  follow  afar  off;  but  we  can 
soon  learn  whether  we  wish  to  get  nearer  to  him, 
or  to  get  away  from  him,  or  to  just  indifferently  let 
him  drop  out  of  our  thoughts.  The  Christian  is  one 
who  holds  and  maintains  certain  simple  relations  to 
Christ.  '  Ye  are  my  friends/  he  said,  not  if  you 
feel  thus  and  so,  but,  '  if  ye  do  whatsoever  I  com 
mand  you  ;  '  and  I  have  found  from  many  years'  ex 
perience  that  '  his  commandments  are  not  grievous/ 
For  every  burden  he  imposes  he  gives  help  and 
comfort  a  hundred  times.  The  more  closely  and 
faithfully  we  follow  him,  the  more  surely  do  fear 
and  doubt  pass  away.  We  learn  to  look  up  to  him 
as  a  child  looks  in  its  mother's  face,  and  '  his  Spirit 
beareth  witness  with  our  spirit  that  we  are  his/  But 
the  vital  point  is,  are  we  following  him  ?  Feeling 
varies  so  widely  and  strangely  in  varied  circumstances 
and  with  different  temperaments  that  many  a  true 
saint  of  God  would  be  left  in  cruel  uncertainty  if 
this  were  the  test.  My  creed  is  a  very  simple  one, 
Egbert ;  but  I  take  a  world  of  comfort  in  it.  It 
contains  only  three  words — Trust,  follow  Christ — 
that  is  .all."  - 

"  It  is  so  simple  and  plain  that  t  am  tempted  to 
take  it  as  my  creed  also,"  said  Haldane,  with  a  tinge 
of  hope  and  enthusiasm  in  his  manner. 

"  And  yet  remember,"  warned  his  friend  earnest 
ly,  "  there  is  infinite  requirement  in  it.  A  child 
ean  make  a  rude  sketch  of  a  perfect  statue  that 
will  bear  some  faint  resemblance  to  it.  If  he  per- 


MRS.  A  KNOT'S  CREED. 


417 


severes  he  can  gradually  learn  to  draw  the  statue 
with  increasing  accuracy.  In  taking  this  Divine 
Man  as  your  example,  you  pledge  yourself  to  imi 
tate  One  whom  you  can  ever  approach  but  never 
reach.  And  yet  there  is  no  occasion  for  the  weak-! 
est  to  falter  before  this  infinite  requirement,  for  God 
himself  in  spirit  is  present  everywhere  to  aid  all  in 
regaining  the  lost  image  of  himself.  It  is  to  no 
lonely  unguided  effort  that  I  urge  you,  Egbert,  but 
to  a  patient  co-working  with  your  Maker,  that  you 
may  attain  a  character  -that  will  fit  you  to  dwell  at 
last  in  your  kingly  Father's  house;  and  I  tell  you 
frankly,  for  your  encouragement,  that  you  are  capa 
ble  of  forming  such  a  character.  I  will  now  bid  you 
good  night,  and  leave  you  to  think  over  what  I  have 
said.  But  write  to  me  or  come  to  me  whenever  you 
wish." 

"  Good  night,  Mr.  Growther ;  hate  yourself  if  you 
will,  but  remember  that  the  Bible  assures  us  that 
1  God  is  love  ; '  you  cannot  hate  him." 
18* 


41 8    KNIGHT  OF   TJ7E  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

THE  LEVER  THAT  MOVES   THE  WORLD. 

THE  power  of  truth  can  scarcely  be  overesti 
mated,  and  the  mind  that  earnestly  seeks  it 
becomes  noble  in  its  noble  quest.  If  this  can  be  said 
of  truth  in  the  abstract,  and  in  its  humbler  manifesta 
tions,  how  omnipotent  truth  becomes  in  its  grandest 
culmination  and  embodied  in  a  being  capable  of  in 
spiring  our  profoundest  fear  and  deepest  love.  One 
may  accept  of  religious  forms  and  philosophies,  and 
be  little  changed  thereby.  One  may  be  perfectly 
saturated  with  ecclesiasticism,  and  still  continue  a 
small-natured  man.  But  the  man  that  accepts  of 
Jesus  Christ  as  a  personal  and  living  teacher,  as  did 
the  fishermen  of  Galilee,  that  man  begins  to  grow 
large  and  noble,  brave  and  patient. 

Egbert  Haldane  has  been  sketched  as  an  ordinary 
youth.  There  are  thousands  like  him  who  have  been 
warped  and  marred  by  early  influences,  but  more 
seriously  injured  by  a  personal  and  willful  yield 
ing  to  whatever  form  of  evil  proved  attractive.  The 
majority  are  not  so  unwary  or  so  unfortunate  as  he 
was ;  but  multitudes,  for  whom  society  has  compara 
tively  little  criticism,  are  more  vitiated  at  heart,  more 
cold-blooded  and  deliberate  in  their  evil.  One  may 


THE  LEVER    THAT  MOVES   THE    WORLD.     419 

form  a  base  character,  but  maintain  an  outward  re 
spectability  ;  but  let  him  not  be  very  complacent  over 
the  decorous  and  conventional  veneer  which  masks 
him  from  the  world.  If  one  imagines  that  he  can 
corrupt  his  own  soul  and  make  it  the  abiding-place 
of  foul  thoughts,  mean  impulses,  and  shriveling  self 
ishness,  and  yet  go  forward  very  far  in  God's  uni 
verse  without  meeting  overwhelming  disaster,  he 
will  find  himself  thoroughly  mistaken. 

The  sin  of  another  man  finds  him  out  ia  swift  se 
quence  upon  its  committal,  and  such  had  been  Hal- 
dane's  experience.  He  had  been  taught  promptly 
the  nature  of  the  harvest  which  evil  produces  in 
evitably. 

The  terrible  consequences  of  sin  prevent  and 
deter  from  it  in  many  instances,  but  they  have  no 
very  great  reformatory  power  it  would  seem.  Mul 
titudes  to-day  are  in  extremis  from  destroying  vices, 
and  recognize  the  fact ;  but  so  far  from  reacting  up 
ward  into  virtue,  even  after  vice  (save  in  the  intent 
of  the  heart)  has  ceased  to  be  possible,  there  seems 
to  be  a  moral  inertia  which  nothing  moves,  or  a 
reckless  and  increasing  impetus  downward. 

It  would  appear  that,  in  order  to  save  the  sinful, 
a  strong,  and  yet  gentle  and  loving,  hand  must  be 
laid  upon  them.  The  stern  grasp  of  justice,  the  grip 
of  pain,  law — human  and  divine — with  its  severe  pen 
alties,  and  conscience  re-echoing  its  thunders,  all 
lead  too  often  to  despondency,  recklessness,  and  de 
spair.  It  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  a  worse  hell 
than  vice  often  digs  for  its  votaries,  even  in  this 
world  ;  and  in  spite  of  all  human  philosophies,  and 


420    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

human  wishes  to  the  contrary,  it  remains  a  fact 
that  the  guilty  soul  trembles  at  a  worse  hereafter, 
and  yet  no  sufferings,  no  fears,  no  fate  can  so  appall 
as  to  turn  the  soul  from  its  infatuation  with  that 
which  is  destroying  it.  More  potent  than  commands, 
threats,  and  their  dire  fulfillment,  is  love,  which  wins 
and  entreats  back  to  virtue  the  man  whom  even 
Omnipotence  could  not  drive  back. 

In  the  flood  God  overwhelmed  the  sinful  world  in 
sudden  destruction,  but  the  race  continued  sinning 
all  the  same.  At  last  God  came  among  men,  and 
shared  in  their  lot  and  nature.  He  taught  them, 
he  sympathized  with  them,  he  loved  them,  he  died 
for  them,  and  when  the  wondrous  story  is  told  as 
it  should  be,  the  most  reckless  pause  to  listen,  the 
most  callous  are  touched,  and  those  who  would 
otherwise  despair  in  their  guilt  are  led  to  believe 
that  there  is  a  heart  large  and  tender  enough  to  pity 
and  save  even  such  as  the  world  is  ready  to  spurn 
into  a  dishonored  grave. 

The  love  of  God  as  manifested  in  Christ  of  Naza 
reth  is  doing  more  for  humanity  than  all  other  in 
fluences  combined.  The  best  and  noblest  elements 
of  our  civilization  can  be  traced  either  directly  or 
indirectly  to  him,  and  shadows  brood  heavily  over 
both  the  lands  and  hearts  that  neither  know  nor 
care  for  him. 

It  would  seem,  then,  that  not  the  wrath  of  God, 
but  his  love,  is  most  affective  in  separating  men  from 
the  evil  which  would  otherwise  destroy  them.  God 
could  best  manifest  this  love  by  becoming  a  man 
"  made  like  unto  his  brethren  ; "  for  the  love  of  God 


THE  LEVER    THAT  MOVES   THE    WORLD.     421 

is  ever  best  taught  and  best  understood,  not  as  a 
doctrine,  but  when  embodied  in  some  large-hearted 
and  Christlike  person. 

Such  a  person  most  emphatically  was  Mrs.  Arnot ; 
and  because  of  these  divine  characteristics  her  gentle, 
womanly  hand  became  more  potent  to  save  young 
Haldane  than  were  all  the  powers  of  evil  and  the 
downward  impetus  of  a  bad  life  to  destroy. 

How  very  many,  like  him,  might  be  saved,  were 
more  women  of  tact  and  culture,  also  large-hearted 
and  willing  to  give  a  part  of  their  time  to  such 
noble  uses ! 

By  a  personal  and  human  ministry,  the  method 
that  has  ever  been  most  effective  in  God's  provi 
dence,  Haldane  was  at  last  brought  into  close.,  in 
timate  relations  with  the  Divine  Teacher  himself. 
He  was  led  to  look  away  from  his  own  fitful  emo 
tions  and  vague  experiences  to  One  who  was  his 
strong  and  unchanging  friend.  He  was  led  to  take 
as  his  daily  guide  and  teacher  the  One  who  devel 
oped  Peter  the  fisherman,  Paul  the  bigot,  Luther  the 
ignorant  monk,  into  what  they  eventually  became, 
and  it  was  not  strange,  therefore,  that  his  crude,  mis 
shapen  character  should  gradually  assume  the  out 
lines  of  moral  symmetry,  and  that  strength  should 
take  the  place  of  weakness.  He  commenced  to 
learn  by  experience  the  truth  which  many  never  half 
believe,  that  God  is  as  willing  to  lovingly  fashion  the 
spiritual  life  of  some  humble  follower,  as  he  is  to 
shape  the  destiny  of  those  who  are  to  be  famous  in 
the  annals  of  the  church  and  the  world. 

To  Haldane's  surprise  he  was  not  discharged  from 


422     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

his  humble  position  in  Mr.  Ivison's  employ,  and  the 
explanation,  which  sooji  afterward  appeared,  gave 
him  great  encouragement.  The  man  whom  he  had 
so  severely  punished  in  his  outburst  of  passion, 
vented  his  spite  by  giving  to  the  Morning  Courier 
an  exaggerated  and  distorted  account  of  the  affair, 
in  which  the  youth  was  made  to  exchange  places 
with  himself,  and  appear  as  a  coarse,  quarrelsome 
bully. 

When  Haldane's  attention  was  called  to  the  para 
graph  his  face  flushed  with  indignation  as  he  read 
it ;  but  he  threw  the  paper  down  and  went  to  his 
work  without  a  word  of  comment.  He  had  already 
about  despaired  of  any  thing  like  justice  or  friendly 
recognition  from  the  public,  and  he  turned  from  this 
additional  wrong  with  a  feeling  not  far  removed  from 
indifference.  He  was  learning  the  value  of  Mrs. 
Arnot's  suggestion,  that  a  consciousness  of  one's 
own  integrity  can  do  more  to  sustain  than  the  world's 
opinion,  and  her  words  on  the  previous  evening  had 
taught  him  how  a  companionship,  and  eventually  a 
character,  might  be  won  that  could  compensate  him 
for  all  that  he  had  lost  or  might  suffer. 

His  persecutor  was,  therefore,  disappointed  in  see 
ing  how  little  annoyance  his  spite  occasioned,  nor 
was  his  equanimity  increased  by  a  message  from  Mr. 
Ivison  ordering  his  instant  discharge. 

The  following  morning  the  foreman  of  the  room 
in  which  Haldane  worked  came  to  him  with  quite  a 
show  of  friendliness,  and  said : 

"  It  seems  ye're  in  luck,  for  the  boss  takes  an  in 
terest  in  ye.     Read  that ;  I  wouldn't  a'  thought  it." 


THE  LEVER    THAT  MOVES   THE    WORLD.     423 

Hope  sprang  up  anew  in  the  young  man's  breast 
as  he  read  the  following  words: 

EDITOR  COURIER. — Dear  Sir : — You  will  doubtless  give  space  for 
this  correction  in  regard  to  the  fracas  which  took  place  in  my  factory 
a  day  or  two  since.  You,  with  all  right-minded  men,  surely  desire 
that  no  injustice  should  be  done  to  any  one  in  any  circumstances. 
Very 'great  injustice  was  done  to  young  Haldane  in  your  issue  of  to 
day.  I  have  taken  pains  to  inform  myself  accurately,  and  have  learned 
that  he  patiently  submitted  to  a  petty  persecution  for  a  long  time, 
and  at  last  gave  way  to  natural  anger  under  a  provocation  such  as  no 
man  of  spirit  could  endure.  His  tormentor,  a  c,oarse,  ill-conditioned 
fellow,  was  justly  punished,  and  I  have  discharged  him  from  my  em 
ploy.  I  have  nothing  to  offer  in  extenuation  of  young  Haldane's  past 
faults,  and,  if  I  remember  correctly,  the  press  of  the  city  has  always 
been  fully  as  severe  upon  him  as  the  occasion  demanded.  If  any 
further  space  is  given  to  his  fortunes,  justice  at  least,  not  to  say  a  little 
encouraging  kindness,  should  be  accorded  to  him,  as  well  as  severity. 
It  should  be  stated  that  for  weeks  he  has  been  trying  to  earn  an  honest 
livelihood,  and  in  a  situation  peculiarly  trying  to- him.  I  have  been 
told  that  he  sincerely  wishes  to  reform  and  live  a  cleanly  and  decent 
life,  and  I  have  obtained  evidence  that  satisfies  me  of  the  truth  of 
this  report.  It  appears  to  me  that  it  is  as  mean  a  thing  for  news 
papers  to  strike  a  man  who  is  down,  but  who  is  endeavoring  to  rise 
again,  as  it  is  for  an  individual  to  do  so,  and  I  am  sure  that  you  will 
not  consciously  permit  your  journal  to  give  any  such  sinister  blow. 

Respectfully  yours, 

JOHN  IVISON. 

In  editorial  comment  came  the  following  brief  re 
mark  : 

We  gladly  give  Mr.  Ivison's  communication  a  prominent  place. 
It  is  not  our  intention  to  'strike'  any  one,  but  merely  to  record  each 
day's  events  as  they  come  to  us.  With  the  best  intentions  mistakes 
are  sometimes  made.  We  have  no  possible  motive  for  not  wishing 
young  Haldane  well — we  do  wish  him  success  in  achieving  a  better 
future  than  his  past  actions  have  led  us  to  expect.  The  city  would  be 
much  better  off  if  all  of  his  class  were  equally  ready  to  go  to  work. 


424     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Here  at  least  was  some  recognition.  The  fact  that 
he  was  working,  and  willing  to  work,  had  been  plainly 
stated,  and  this  fact  is  an  essential  foundation-stone 
in  the  building  up  of  a  reputation,  which  the  world 
will  respect. 

Although  the  discharge  of  the  leading  persecutor, 
and  Mr.  Ivison's  letter,  did  not  add  to  Haldane's  pop 
ularity  at  the  mill,  they  led  to  his  being  severely  let 
alone  at  first,  and  an  increasingly  frank  and  affable 
manner  on  the  part  of  the  young  man,  as  he  gained 
in  patience  and  serenity,  gradually  disarmed  those 
who  were  not  vindictive  and  blind  from  prejudice. 

Poor  Mrs.  Haldane  seemed  destined  to  be  her  son's 
evil  genius  to  the  end.  When  people  take  a  false 
view  of  life  there  seems  a  fatality  in  all  their  ac 
tions.  The  very  fact  that  they  are  not  in  accord 
with  what  is  right  and  true  causes  the  most  impor 
tant  steps  of  their  lives  to  appear  ill-timed,  injudi 
cious,  and  unnatural.  That  they  are  well-meaning 
and  sincere  does  not  help  matters  much,  if  both  tact 
and  sound  principles  are  wanting.  Mrs.  Haldane 
belonged  to  the  class  that  are  sure  that  every  thing 
is  right  which  seems  right  to  them.  True,  it  was 
a  queer  little  jumble  of  religious  prejudices,  and 
conventional  notions  that  combined  to  produce  her 
conclusions  ;  but  when  once  they  were  reached,  no 
matter  how  absurd  or  defective  they  appeared  to 
others,  she  had  no  more  doubt  concerning  them 
than  of  the  Copernican  system. 

Her  motherly  feelings  had  made  her  willing  to  take 
her  son  to  some  hiding-place  in  Europe ;  but  since 
that  could  not  be,  and  perhaps  was  not  best,  she  had 


THE  LEVER    THAT  MOVES   THE    WORLD.     425 

thoroughly  settled  it  in  her  mind  that  he  should  ac 
cept  of  her  offer  and  live  at  her  expense  the  undemon 
strative  life  of  an  oyster  in  the  social  and  moral  ooze 
of  the  obscurest  mud-bank  he  could  find.  In  this 
way  the  terrible  world  might  be  led  to  eventually 
leave  off  talking  and  thinking  of  the  Haldane  family 
— a  consummation  that  appeared  to  her  worth  any 
sacrifice.  When  the  morning  paper  brought  another 
vile  story  (copied  from  the  Hillaton  Courier}  of  her 
son's  misdoings,  her  adverse  view  of  his  plans  and 
character  was  confirmed  beyond  the  shadow  of  a 
doubt.  She  felt  that  there  was  a  fatality  about  the 
place  and  its  associations  for  him,  and  her  one  hope 
was  to  get  him  away. 

She  cut  the  article  from  the  paper,  and  inclosed  it 
to  him  with  the  accompanying  note: 

We  go  to  New  York  this  afternoon,  and  sail  for  Europe  to-mor 
row.  You  send  us  in  parting  a  characteristic  souvenir,  which  I  re 
turn  to  you.  The  scenes  and  associations  indicated  in  this  disgrace 
ful  paragraph*  seem  more  to  your  taste  than  those  which  your  family 
have  hitherto  enjoyed  as  their  right  for  many  generations.  While 
this  remains  true,  you,  of  necessity,  cut  yourself  off  from  your  kindred, 
and  we,  who  are  most  closely  connected,  must  remain  where  our 
names  cannot  be  associated  with  yours.  I  still  cherish  the  hope,  how 
ever,  that  you  may  find  the  way  of  the  transgressor  so  hard  that  you 
will  be  brought  by  your  bitter  experience  to  accept  of  my  offer  and 
give  the  world  a  chance  to  forget  your  folly  and  wickedness.  When 
you  will  do  this  in  good  faith  (and  my  lawyer  will  see  that  it  is  done 
in  good  faith),  you  may  draw  on  him  for  the  means  of  a  comfortable 
support. 

In  bitter  shame  and  sorrow,  your  mother, 

EMILY  HALDANE. 

This  letter  was  a  severe  blow  to  her  son,  for  it  con 
tained  the  last  words  of  the  mother  that  he  might 


426     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

not  see  for  years.  While  he  felt  it  to  be  cruelly  un 
just  to  him  and  his  present  aims,  he  was  calm  enough 
now  to  see  that  the  distorted  paragraph  which  led  to 
it  fitted  in  only  too  well  with  the  past,  and  so  had 
the  coloring  of  truth.  When  inclined  to  blame  his 
mother  for  not  waiting  for  his  versions  of  these  mis 
erable  events  and  accepting  of  them  alone,  he  was 
compelled  to  remember  that  she  was  in  part  awak 
ened  frorn  her  blind  idolatry  of  him  by  the  discovery 
of  his  efforts  to  deceive  her  in  regard  to  his  increas 
ing  dissipation.  Even  before  he  had  entered  Mr. 
Arnot's  counting-room  he  had  taught  her  to  doubt 
his  word,  and  now  she  had  evidently  lost  confidence 
in  him  utterly.  He  foresaw  that  this  confidence 
could  only  be  regained  by  years  of  patient  well 
doing,  and  that  she  might  incline  to  believe  in  him 
more  slowly  even  than  comparative  strangers.  But 
he  was  not  disposed  to  be  very  angry  and  resent 
ful,  for  he  now  had  but  little  confidence  in  him 
self.  He  had  been  led,  however,  by  his  bitter  ex 
perience  and  by  Mrs.  Arnot's  faithful  ministry  to 
adopt  that  lady's  brief  but  comprehensive  creed. 
He  was  learning  to  trust  in  Christ  as  an  all-powerful 
and  personal  friend ;  he  was  daily  seeking  to  grasp 
the  principles  which  Christ  taught,  but  more  clearly 
acted  out,  and  which  are  essential  to  the  formation 
of  a  noble  character.  He  had  thus  complied  with 
the  best  conditions  of  spiritual  growth ;  and  the 
crude  elements  of  his  character,  which  had  been 
rendered  more  chaotic  by  evil,  slowly  began  to  shape 
themselves  into  the  symmetry  of  a  true  man. 

In  regard  to  his  mother's  letter,  all  that  he  could 


THE  LEVER    THAT  MOVES   THE    WORLD. 


427 


do  was  to  inclose  to  her,  with  the  request  that  it  be 
forwarded,  Mr.  Ivison's  defense  of  him,  which  ap 
peared  in  the  Courier  of  the  following  morning. 

"  You  perceive,"  he  wrote,  "that  a  stranger-has 
taken  pains  to  inform  himself  correctly  in  regard 
to  the  facts  of  the  case,  and  that  he  has  for  me 
some  charity  and  'hope.  I  do  not  excuse  the  wrong 
of  my  action  on  that  occasion  or  on  any  other,  but 
I  do  wish,  and  I  am  trying,  to  do  better,  and  I  hope 
to  prove  the  same  to  you  by  years  of  patient  effort. 
I  may  fail  miserably,  however,  as  you  evidently  be 
lieve.  The  fact  that  my  folly  and  wickedness  have 
driven  you  and  my  sisters  into  exile,  is  a  very  great 
sorrow  to  me,  but  compliance  with  your  request 
that  I  should  leave  Hillaton  and  go  into  hiding 
would  bring  no  remedy  at  all.  I  know  that  I 
should  do  worse  anywhere  else,  and  my  self-respect 
and  conscience  both  require  that  I  should  fight  the 
battle  of  my  life  out  here  where  I  have  suffered  such 
disgraceful  defeat." 


428    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

MR.   GROWTHER  "  STUMPED." 

ABOUT  three  weeks  after  the  occasion  upon 
which  Haldane's  human  nature  had  mani 
fested  itself  in  such  a  disastrous  manner  as  he  had 
supposed,  Mrs.  Arnot,  Dr.  Barstow,  and  Mr.  Ivison 
happened  to  find  themselves  together  at  an  evening 
company. 

"  I  have  been  wishing  to  thank  you,  Mr.  Ivison," 
said  the  lady,  "  for  your  just  and  manly  letter  in  re 
gard  to  young  Haldane.  I  think  it  encouraged  him 
very  much,  and  has  given  him  more  hopefulness  in 
his  work.  How  has  he  been  doing  of  late  ?  The 
only  reply  he  makes  to  my  questioning  is,  '  I  am 
plodding  on.'  ' 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Mr.  Ivison,  "  I  am  begin 
ning  to  take  quite  an  interest  in  that  young  fellow. 
He  has  genuine  pluck.  You  cannot  understand, 
Mrs.  Arnot,  what  an  ordeal  he  has  passed  through. 
He  is  naturally  as  mettlesome  as  a  young  colt,  and 
yet  day  after  day  he  was  subjected  to  words  and  ac 
tions  that  were  to  him  like  the  cut  of  a  whip." 

'*  Mr.  Ivison,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  with  a  sudden 
moisture  coming  into  her  eyes,  "  I  have  long  felt  the 
deepest  interest  in  this  young  man.  In  judging  any 


MR.  CROWTHER  STUMPED.  429 

one  I  try  to  consider  not  only  what  he  does,  but  all 
the  circumstances  attending  upon  his  action.  Know 
ing  Haldane's  antecedents,  and  how  peculiarly  un 
fitted  he  was  by  early  life  and  training  for  his  present 
trials,  I  think  his  course  since  he  was  last  released 
from  prison  has  been  very  brave,"  and  she  gave  a 
brief  sketch  of  his  life  and  mental  states,  as  far  as 
a  delicate  regard  for  his  feelings  permitted,  from 
that  date. 

Dr.  Barstow,  in  his  turn,  also  became  interested 
not  only  in  the  youth  for  his  own  sake,  but  also  in 
the  workings  of  his  mind  and  his  spiritual  experi 
ences.  It  was  the  good  doctor's  tendency  to  an 
alyze  every  thing  and  place  all  psychological  mani 
festations  under  their  proper  theological  heads. 

"  I  feel  that  I  indirectly  owe  this  youth  a  large 
debt  of  gratitude,  since  his  coming  to  our  church 
and  his  repulse,  in  the  first  instance,  has  led  to  de 
cided  changes  for  the  better  in  us  all,  I  trust.  But 
his  experience,  as  you  have  related  it,  raises  some 
perplexing  questions.  Do  you  think  he  is  a  Chris 
tian  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  think  he  is,"  replied  Mrs. 
Arnot. 

"  When  do  you  think  he  became  a  Christian?" 

"  Still  less  can  I  answer  that  question  definitely." 

"  But  would  not  one  naturally  think  it  was  when 
he  was  conscious  of  that  happy  change  in  the  study 
of  good  old  Dr.  Marks  ?  " 

"  Poor  Haldane  has  been  conscious  of  many  changes 
and  experiences,  but  I  do  not  despise  or  make  light 
of  any  of  them.  It  is  certainly  sensible  to  believe 


430 


KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


that  every  effect  has  a  cause  ;  and  for  one  I  believe 
that  these  strange,  mystical,  and  often  rich  and  rap 
turous  experiences,  are  largely  and  perhaps  wholly 
caused  in  many  instances  by  the  direct  action  of 
God's  Spirit  on  the  human  spirit.  Again,  it  would 
seem  that  men's  religious  natures  are  profoundly 
stirred  by  human  and  earthly  causes,  for  the  emotion 
ceases  with  the  cause.  It  appears  to  me  that  if 
people  would  only  learn  to  look  at  these  experiences 
in  a  sensible  way,  they  would  be  the  better  and 
wiser  for  them.  We  are  thus  taught  what  a  grand 
instrument  the  soul  is,  and  of  what  divine  harmonies 
and  profound  emotions  it  is  capable  when  played 
upon  by  any  adequate  power.  To  expect  to  maintain 
this  exaltation  with  our  present  nature  is  like  requir 
ing  of  the  athlete  that  he  never  relax  his  muscles,  or 
of  the  prima  donna  that  she  never  cease  the  exquisite 
trill  which  is  but*  the  momentary  proof  of  what  her 
present  organization  is  capable.  And  yet  it  would 
appear  that  many,  like  poor  Haldane,  are  tempted 
on  one  hand  to  entertain  no  Christian  hope  because 
they  cannot  produce  these  deep  and  happy  emo 
tions  ;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  to  give  up  Christian 
hope  because  these  emotions  cease  in  the  inevitable 
reaction  that  follows  them.  In  my  opinion  it  is 
when  we  accept  of  Christ  as  Saviour  and  Guide  we 
become  Christians,  and  a  Christian  life  is  the  main 
tenance  of  this  simple  yet  vital  relationship.  We 
thus  continue  branches  of  the  '  true  vine.'  I  think 
Haldane  has  formed  this  relationship." 

*'  It  would  seem   from  your  account  that  he  had 
formed  it,  consciously,  but  a  very  brief  time  since," 


MR.  GROWTHER   STUMPED. 


43J 


said  Dr.  Barstow,  "  and  yet  for  weeks  previous  he 
had  been  putting  forth  what  closely  resembles  Chris 
tian  effort,  exercising  Christian  forbearance,  and  for 
a  time  at  least  enjoying  happy  spiritual  experiences. 
Can  you  believe  that  all  this  is  possible  to  one  who 
is  yet  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Dr.  Barstow,  I  cannot  apply  your  sys 
tematic  theology  to  all  of  God's  creatures  any  more 
than  I  could  apply  a  rigid  and  carefully  lined-out 
system  of  parental  affection  and  government  to  your 
household.  I  know  that  you  love  all  of  your  children, 
both  when  they  are  good  and  when  they  are  bad,  and 
that  you  are  ever  trying  to  help  the  naughty  ones 
to  be  better.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  I  could  learn 
more  sound  theology-  on  these  points  in  your  nurse 
ry  and  dining-room  than  in  your  study.  I  am  sure, 
however,  that  God  does  not  wait  till  his  little  bewil 
dered  children  reach  a  certain  theological  mile-stone 
before  reaching  out  his  hand  to  guide  and  help  them." 

"  You  are  both  better  theologians  than  I  am," 
said  Mr.  Ivison,  "  and  I  shall  not  enter  the  lists  with 
you  on  that  ground  ;  but  I  know  what  mill-life  is  to 
one  of  his  caste  and  feeling,  and  his  taking  such 
work,  and  his  sticking  to  it  under  the  circumstances, 
is  an  exhibition  of  more  pluck  than  most  young  men 
possess.  And  yet  it  was  his  only  chance,  for  when 
people  get  down  as  low  as  he  was  they  must  take 
any  honest  work  in  order  to  obtain  a  foot-hold. 
Even  now,  burdened  as  he  is  by  an  evil  name,  it  is 
difficult  to  see  how  he  can  rise  any  higher." 

"Could  you  not  give  him  a  clerkship?"  asked 
Mrs.  Arnot. 


432     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

11  No,  I  could  not  introduce  him  among  my  other 
clerks.  They  would  resent  it  as  an  insult." 

"You  could  do  this,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot  with  a 
slight  flush,  "but  I  do  not  urge  it  or  even  ask  it. 
You  are  in  a  position  to  show  great  and  generous 
kindness  toward  this  young  man.  As  he  who  was 
highest  stooped  to  the  lowliest,  so  those  high  in  sta 
tion  and  influence  can  often  stoop  to  the  humble 
and  fallen  with  a  better  grace  than  those  nearer  to 
them  in  rank.  If  you  believe  this  young  man  is 
now  trustworthy,  and  that  trusting  him  would  make 
him  still  more  so,  you  could  give  him  a  desk  in  your 
private  office,  and  thus  teach  your  clerks  a  larger 
charity.  The  influential  and  assured  in  position 
must  often  take  the  lead  in  these  matters." 

Mr.  Ivison  thought  a  moment,  and  then  said : 
"  Your  proposition  is  unusual,  Mrs.  Arnot,  but  I'll 
think  of  it.  I  make  no  promises,  however." 

"  Mr.  Ivison,"  added  Mrs.  Arnot,  in  her  smiling, 
happy  way,  "  I  hope  you  may  make  a  great  deal  of 
money  out  of  your  business  this  year ;  but  if,  by 
means  of  it,  you  can  also  aid  in  making  a  good  and 
true  man,  you  will  be  still  better  off.  Dr.  Barstow 
here  can  tell  you  how  sure  such  investments  are." 

"  If  I  should  follow  your  lead  and  that  of  Dr.  Bar- 
stow,  all  my  real  estate  would  be  in  the  'Celestial 
City,'  "  laughed  Mr.  Ivison.  "  But  I  have  a  special 
admiration  for  the  grace  of  clear  grit,  and  this  young 
fellow,  in  declining  his  mother's  offer  and  trying  to 
stand  on  his  feet  here  in  Hillaton,  where  every  one  is 
ready  to  tread  him  down,  shows  pluck,  whatever  else 
is  wanting.  I've  had  my  eye  on  him  for  some  time, 


MR.  G ROW  THE  R   STUMPED. 


433 


and  I'm  about  satisfied  he's  trying  to  do  right.  But 
it  is  difficult  to  know  what  to  do  for  one  with  his 
ugly  reputation.  I  will  see  what  can  be  done,  how 
ever." 

That  same  evening  chilly  autumn  winds  were  blow 
ing  without,  and  Mr.  Growther's  passion  for  a  wood 
fire  upon  the  hearth  was  an  indulgence  to  which 
Haldane  no  longer  objected.  The  frugal  supper  was 
over,  and  the  two  oddly  diverse  occupants  of  the 
quaint  old  kitchen  glowered  at  the  red  coals  in 
silence,  each  busy  with  his  own  thoughts.  At  last 
Haldane  gave  a  long  deep  sigh,  which  drew  to  him 
at  once  Mr.  Growther's  small  twinkling- eyes. 

"  Tough  old  world,  isn't  it,  for  sinners  like  us  ?  " 
he  remarked. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Growther,  I've  got  rather  tired  of  in 
veighing  against  the  world;  I'm  coming  to  think 
that  the  trouble  is  largely  with  myself." 

"Umph!"  .snarled  the  old  man,  "I've  allers 
knowed  the  trouble  was  with  me,  for  of  all  crabbed, 
cranky,  cantankerous,  old — " 

"  Hold  on,"  cried,  Haldane,  laughing,  "  don't  you 
remember  what  Mrs.  Arnot  said  about  being  unjust 
to  one's  self?  The  only  person  that  I  have  ever 
known  you  to  wrong  is  Jeremiah  Growther,  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  you  do  treat  him  outrageously 
sometimes." 

At  the  name  of  Mrs.  Arnot  the  old  man's  face 
softened,  and  he  rubbed  his  hands  together  as  he 
chuckled,  "  How  Satan  must  hate  that  woman !  " 

"  I  was  in  hopes  that  her  words  might  lead  you 
to  be  a  little  juster  to  yourself,"  continued  Haldane, 
19 


434    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  and  it  has  seemed  to  me  that  you,  as  well*  as  I, 
have  been  in  a  better  mood  of  late." 

"  I  don't  take  no  stock  in  myself  at  all,"  said  Mr. 
Growther  emphatically.  "  I'm  a  crooked  stick  and 
allers  will  be — a  reg'lar  old  gnarled  knotty  stick,  with 
not  'nuffgood  timber  in  it  to  make  a  penny  whistle. 
That  I  haven't  been  in  as  cussin'  a  state  as  usual, 
isn't  because  I  think  any  better  of  myself,  but  your 
Mrs.  Arnot  has  set  me  a-thinkin'  on  a  new  track. 
She  come  to  see  me  one  day  while  you  was  at  the 
mill,  and  we  had  a  real  speret'al  tussel.  I  argufied 
my  case  in  such  a  way  that  she  couldn't  git  round 
it,  and  I  proved  to  her  that  I  was  the  dryest  and 
crookedest  old  stick  that  ever  the  devil  twisted  out 
o'  shape  when  it  was  a-growin'.  On  a  suddent  she 
turned  the  argerment  agin  me  in  a  way  that  has 
stumped  me  ever  since.  'You  are  right,  Mr.  Grow 
ther,'  she  said,  '  it  was  the  devil  and  not  the  Lord 
that  twisted  you  out  of  shape.  Now  who's  the 
stronger,'  she  says,  '  and  who's  goin*  to  have  his  own 
way  in  the  end?  Suppose  you  are  very  crooked, 
won't  the  Lord  get  all  the  more  glory  in  making  you 
straight,  and  won't  his  victory  be  all  the  greater  over 
the  evil  one?'  Says  I,  '  Mrs.  Arnot,  that's  puttin' 
my  case  in  a  new  light.  If  I  should  be  straightened 
out,  it  would  be  the  awfulest  set  back  Old  Nick  ever 
had  ;  and  if  such  a  thing  should  happen  he'd  never 
feel  sure  of  any  one  after  that.'  Then  she  turned  on 
me  kinder  sharp,  and  says  she,  *  What  right*have 
you  to  say  that  God  is  allers  lookin'  round  for  easy 
work?  What  would  you  think  of  a  doctor  who 
would  take  only  slight  cases,  and  have  nothing  to  do 


MR.  GROWTHER   STUMPED.  435 

with  people  who  were  gittin'  dangerous-like  ?  Isn't 
Jesus  Christ  tlje  great  physician,  and  don't  your 
common  sense  tell  you  that  he  is  jist  as  able  to  cure 
you  as  a  little  child  ?  ' 

"  I  declare  I  was  stumped.  Like  that  ill-man 
nered  cuss  in  the  Scripter  who  thought  his  old 
clothes  good  enough  for  the  weddin',  I  was  speech 
less. 

"  But  I  got  a  worse  knock  down  than  that.  Says 
she,  *  Mr.  Growther,  I  will  not  dispute  all  the  hard 
things  you  have  said  of  yourself  (you  see  I  had 
beat  her  on  that  line  of  argerment) ;  I  won't  dis 
pute  all  that  you  say  (and  I  felt  a  little  sot  up  agin, 
for  I  didn't  know  what  she  was  a-drivin'  at),  but,' 
says  she,  '  I  think  you've  got  some  natural  feelin's. 
Suppose  you  had  a  little  son,  and  while  he  was  out 
in  the  street  a  wicked  man  should  carry  him  off  and 
treat  him  so  cruelly  that,  instead  of  growin'  to  be 
strong  and  fine-lookin',  he  should  become  a  puny 
deformed  little  critter.  Suppose  at  last  you  should 
hear  where  he  was,  and  that  he  was  longin'  to  escape 
from  the  cruel  hands  of  his  harsh  master,  who  kept 
on  a-treatin'  of  him  worse  and  worse,  would  you,  his 
father,  go  and  coolly  look  at  him  and  say,  "If  you 
was  only  a  handsome  boy,  with  a  strong  mind  in  a 
strong  body,  I'd  deliver  you  out  of  this  tyrant's 
clutches  and  take  you  back  to  be  my  son  again ;  but 
since  you  are  a  poor,  weak,  deformed  little  critter, 
that  can  never  do  much,  or  be  much,  I'll  leave  you 
here  to  be  abused  and  tormented  as  before," — is 
that  what  you  would  do,  Mr.  Growther?' 

"  Well,  she  spoke  it  all  so  earnest  and  real-like  that 


436     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

I  got  off  my  guard,  and  I  jist  riz  right  up  from  my 
cheer,  and  I  got  hold  of  my  heavy,  old  cane  there, 
and  it  seemed  as  if  my  hair  stood  right  up  on  end,  I 
was  that  mad  at  the  old  curmudgeon  that  had  my 
boy,  and  I  half  shouts,  *  No  !  that  ain't  what  I'd  do. 
I'd  go  for  that  cuss  that  stole  my  boy,  and  for  every 
blow  he'd  given  the  little  chap,  I'd  give  him  a  hun 
dred.' 

"  '  But  what  would  you  do  with  the  poor  little 
boy  ? '  she  asks.  At  that  I  began  to  choke,  my  feelin's 
was  so  stirred  up,  and  moppin'  my  eyes,  I  said, 

*  Poor  little  chap,  all  beaten  and  abused  out  o'  shape  ! 
What  would  I  do  with  him?     Why,  I  couldn't  do 
'nuff  for  him  in  tryin'  to  make  him  forget  all  the 
hard  times  he'd  had.'     Then  says  she,  '  You  would 
twit  the  child  with  bein'  weak,  puny,  and  deformed, 
would  you  ?  '     I  was  now  hobblin'  up  and  down  the 
room    in  a  great  state  of  excitement,  and   says  I, 

*  Mrs.  Arnot,  mean  a  man  as  I  am,  I  wouldn't  treat 
any  human  critter  so,  let  alone  my  own  flesh  and 
blood,  that  had  been  so  abused  that  it  makes  my 
heart  ache  to  think  on't' 

"  '  Don't  you  think  you  would  love  the  boy  a  little 
even  though  he  had  a  hump  on  his  back  and  his  fea 
tures  were  thin  and  sharp  and  pale?'  '  Mrs.  Arnot/ 
says  I,  moppin'  my  eyes  agin, '  if  you  say  another  word 
about  the  little  chap  I  shall  be  struck  all  of  a  heap, 
fur  my  heart  jist  kinder — kinder  pains  like  a  tooth 
ache  to  do  somethin'  for  him/  Then  all  of  a  suddent 
she  turns  on  me  sharp  agin,  and  says  she,  '  I  think 
you  are  a  very  inconsistent  man,  Mr.  Growther.  You 
have  been  runnin'  yourself  down,  and  yet  you  claim 


MR.GROWTHER  STUMPED.  437 

to  be  better  than  your  Maker.  He  calls  himself 
our  Heavenly  Father,  and  yet  you  are  sure  that  you 
have  a  kinder  and  more  fatherly  heart  than  he.  You 
are  one  of  his  little,  weak,  deformed  children,  twisted 
all  out  of  shape,  as  you  have  described,  by  his  enemy 
and  yours,  and  yet  you  the  same  as  say  that  you 
would  act  a  great  deal  more  like  a  true  father  toward 
your  child  than  he  will  toward  his.  You  virtually 
say  that  you  would  rescue  your  child  and  be  pitiful 
and  tender  toward  him,  but  that  your  Heavenly 
^Father  will  leave  you  in  the  clutches  of  the  cruel 
enemy,  or  exact  conditions  that  you  cannot  comply 
with  before  doing  any  thing  for  you.  Haven't  you 
read  in  the  Bible  that  "  Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his 
children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  him  "  ? 
You  think  very  meanly  of  yourself,  but  you  ap 
pear  to  think  more  meanly  of  God.  Where  is  your 
warrant  for  doing  so  ?  ' 

11  The  truth  bust  in  on  me  like  the  sunlight  into 
this  old  kitchen  when  we  open  the  shutters  of  a 
summer  mornin'.  I  saw  that  I  was  so  completely 
floored  in  the  argerment,  and  had  made  such  a  blasted 
old  fool  of  myself  all  these  years  that  I  just  looked 
around  for  a  knot-hole  to  crawl  into.  I  didn't  know 
which  way  to  look,  but  at  last  I  looked  at  her,  and 
my  withered  old  heart  gave  a  great  thump  when  I 
saw  two  tears  a-standin'  in  her  eyes.  Then  she 
jumps  up  and  gives  me  that  warm  hand  o'  her'n  and 
says :  *  Mr.  Growther,  whenever  you  wish  to  know 
how  God  feels  toward  you,  think  how  you  felt  toward 
that  little  chap  that  was  abused  and  beaten  all  out 
o'  shape/  and  she  was  gone.  Well,  the  upshot  of  it  all 


438    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

is  that  I  don't  think  a  bit  better  of  myself — not  one 
bit — but  that  weakly  little  chap,  with  a  peaked  face 
and  a  hump  on  his  back,  that  Mrs.  Arnot  made  so 
real-like  that  I  see  him  a-lookin'  at  me  out  of  the 
cheer  there  half  the  time — he's  a  makin'  me  better 
acquainted  with  the  Lord,  for  the  Lord  knows  I've  got 
a  hump  on  my  back  and  humps  all  over ;  but  I  keep 
a-saym'  to  myself,  '  Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  chil 
dren,'  and  I  don't  feel  near  as  much  like  cussin*  as  I 
used  to.  That  little  chap  that  Mrs.  Arnot  described 
is  doin'  me  a  sight  o*  good,  and  if  I  could  find  some^ 
poor  little  critter  just  like  him,  with  no  one  to  look 
after  him,  I'd  take  him  in  and  do  for  him  in  a  minit." 

"  Mr.  Growther,"  said  Haldane,  huskily,  "you 
have  found  that  poor  misshapen,  dwarfed  creature 
that  I  fear  will  never  attain  the  proportions  of  a 
true  man.  Of  course  you  see  through  Mrs.  Arnot's 
imagery.  In  befriending  me  you  are  caring  for 
one  who  is  weak  and  puny  indeed." 

"  Oh,  you  won't  answer,"  said  Mr.  Growther  with  a 
laugh.  "  I  can  see  that  your  humps  is  growin'  wisibly 
less  every  day,  and  you're  too  big  and  broad-shoul 
dered  for  me  to  be  a  pettin'  and  a  yearnin'  over.  I 
want  jest  such  a  peaked  little  chap  as  Mrs.  Arnot 
pictured  out,  and  that's  doin'  me  such  a  sight  o' 
good." 

Again  the  two  occupants  of  the  old  kitchen  gazed 
at  the  fire  for  a  long  time  in  silence,  and  again  there 
came  from  the  young  man  the  same  long-drawn  sigh 
that  had  attracted  Mr.  Grovvther's  attention  before. 

"  That's  the  second  time,"  he  remarked. 
,     "  I  was  thinking,"  said  Haldane,  rising  to  retire, 


MR.  GROWTHER   STUMPED. 

"  whether  I  shall  ever  have  better  work  than  this 
odious  routine  at  the  mill." 

Mr.  Growther  pondered  over  the  question  a  few 
minutes,  and  then  said  sententiously  :  "  I'm  inclined 
to  think  the  Lord  gives  us  as  good  work  as  we're 
cap'ble  of  doin'.  He'll  promote  you  when  you've 
growed  a  little  more." 


440    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

GROWTH. 

THE  next  morning  Haldane  received  a  message 
directing  him  to  report  at  Mr.  Ivison's  private 
office  during  the  noon  recess. 

"Be  seated,"  said  that  gentleman' as  the  young 
man,  wearing  an  anxious  and  somewhat  surprised  ex 
pression,  entered  hesitatingly  and  diffidently.  "  You 
need  not  look  so  troubled,  I  have  not  sent  for  you 
to  find  fault — quite  the  reverse.  You  have  *  a  friend 
at  court,'  as  the  saying  goes.  Not  that  you  needed 
one  particularly,  for  I  have  had  my  eye  upon  you 
myself;  and  for  some  days  past  have  been  inclined  to 
give  you  a  lift.  But  last  evening  Mrs.  Arnot  spoke 
in  your  behalf,  and  through  her  words  I  have  been 
led  to  take  the  following  step.  For  reasons  that 
perhaps  you  can  understand,  it  would  be  difficult  for 
me  to  give  you  a  desk  among  my  other  clerks.  I 
am  not  so  sensitive,  now  tha*-  I  know  your  better 
aims,  and  it  is  my  wish  that  you  take  that  desk  there, 
in  this,  my  private  office.  Your  duties  will  be  very 
miscellaneous.  Sometimes  I  shall  employ  you  as  my 
errand-boy,  again  I  may  intrust  you  with  important 
and  confidential  business.  I  stipulate  that  you  per 
form  the  humblest  task  as  readily  as  any  other." 


GROWTH.  441 

Haldane's  face  flushed  with  pleasure,  and  he  said 
warmly,  "  I  am  not  in  a  position,  sir,  to  consider  any 
honest  work  beneath  me,  and  after  your  kindness  I 
shall  regard  any  service  I  can  render  you  as  a  privi 
lege." 

"A  neat  answer,"  laughed  Mr.  Ivison.  "If  you 
do  your  work  as  well  I  shall  be  satisfied.  Pluck  and 
good  sense  will  make  a  man  of  you  yet.  I  want  you 
to  distinctly  understand  that  it  has  been  your  readi 
ness  and  determination,  not  only  to  work,  but  to  do 
any  kind  of  work,  that  has  won  my  good-will.  Here's 
a  check  for  a  month's  salary  in  advance.  Be  here 
to-morrow  at  nine,  dressed  suitably  for  your  new 
position.  Good  morning." 

11  Halloo  !  What's  happened  ?•'  asked  Mr.  Grow- 
ther  as  Haldane  came  in  that  evening  with  face 
aglow  with  gladness  and  excitement. 

"According  to  your  theory  I've  been  promoted 
sure,"  laughed  the  youth,  and  he  related  the  unex 
pected  event  of  the  day. 

"  That's  jest  like  Mrs.  Arnot,"  said  Mr.  Growther, 
rubbing  his  hands  as  he  ever  did  when  pleased  ; 
"  she's  allers  givin'  some  poor  critter  a  boost. 
T'other  day  'twas  me,  now  it's  you  agin,  and  they 
say  she's  helpin'  lots  more  along.  St.  Peter  will 
have  to  open  the  gate  wide  when  she  comes  in  with 
her  crowd.  'Pears  to  me  sometimes  that  1  can  fairly 
hear  Satan  a-gnashin'  of  his  teeth  over  that  woman. 
She's  the  wust  enemy  he  has  in  town." 

"  I  wish  I  might  show  her  how  grateful  I  am  some 
day,"  said   Haldane,  with   moistened  eyes  ;  "  but  I 
clearly  foresee  that  I  can  never  repay  her." 
19* 


442     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  No  matter  if  you  can't,"  replied  the  old  man. 
"  She  don't  want  any  pay.  It's  her  natur'  to  do 
these  things." 

Haldane  gave  his  whole  mind  to  the  mastery  of 
his  new  duties,  and  after  a  few  natural  blunders 
speedily  acquired  a  facility  in  the  diverse  tasks 
allotted  him.  In  a  manner  that  was  perfectly  un 
obtrusive  and  respectful  he  watched  his  employer, 
studied  his  methods  and  habit  of  mind,  and  thus 
gained  the  power  of  anticipating  his  wishes.  Mr. 
Ivison  began  to  find  his  office  and  papers  kept 
in  just  the  order  he  liked,  the  temperature  main 
tained  at  a  pleasant  medium,  and  to  receive  many 
little  nameless  attentions  that  added  to  his  comfort 
and  reduced  the  wear  and  tear  of  life  to  a  hurried 
business-man ;  and  when  in  emergencies  Haldane 
was  given  tasks  that  required  brains,  he  proved  that 
he  possessed  a  fair  share  of  them. 

After  quite  a  lapse  of  time  Mr.  Ivison  again  hap 
pened  to  meet  Mrs.  Arnot,  and  he  said  to  her : 

"  Haldane  thinks  you  did  him  a  great  kindness 
in  suggesting  our  present  arrangement;  but  I  am  in 
clined  to  think  you  did  me  a  greater,  for  you  have 
no  idea  how  useful  the  young  fellow  is  making  him 
self  to  me." 

"  Then  you  will  have  to  find  a  new  object  of  be 
nevolence,"  answered  the  lady,  "  or  you  will  have 
all  your  reward  in  this  world." 

"  There  it  is  again,"  said  Mr.  Ivison,  with  his 
hearty  laugh,  "  you  and  Dr.  Barstow  give  a  man  no 
peace.  I'm  going  to  take  breath  before  I  strike  in 
again." 


GRO  WTH. 


443 


In  his  new  employment,  Haldane,  from  the  first, 
had  found  considerable  leisure  on  his  hands,  and 
after  a  little  thought  decided  to  carefully  review  the 
studies  over  which  he  had  passed  so  superficially  in 
his  student  days. 

Mr.  Growther  persisted  in  occupying  the  kitchen, 
leaving  what  had  been  designed  as  the  parlor  or  sit 
ting-room  of  his  cottage  to  dust  and  damp.  With 
his  permission  the  young  man  fitted  this  up  as  a 
study,  and  bought  a  few  popular  works  on  science,  as 
the  nucleus  of  a  library.  After  supper  he  read  the 
evening  paper  to  Mr.  Growther,  who  soon  fell  into  a 
doze,  and  then  Haldane  would  steal  away  to  his  own 
quarters  and  pursue  with  zest,  until  a  late  hour, 
some  study  that  had  once  seemed  to  him  utterly  dry 
and  unattractive. 

Thus  the  months  glided  rapidly  and  serenely  away, 
and  he  was  positively  happy  in  a  mode  of  life  that 
he  once  would  have  characterized  as  odiously  hum 
drum.  The  terrible  world,  whose  favor  had  formerly 
seemed  essential,  and  its  scorn  unendurable,  was  al 
most  forgotten ;  and  as  he  continued  at  his  duties  so 
steadily  and  unobtrusively  the  hostile  world  began 
to  gradually  unbend  its  frowning  aspect  toward  him. 
Those  whom  he  daily  met  in  business  commenced 
with  a  nod  of  recognition,  and  eventually  ended  with 
a  pleasant  word.  At  church  an  increasing  number 
began  to  speak  to  him,  not  merely  as  a  Christian 
duty,  but  because  the  young  man's  sincere. and  ear 
nest  manner  interested  them  .and  inspired  respect. 

The  fact  that  he  recognized  that  he  was  under  a 
cloud  and  did  not  try  to  attract  attention,  worked  in 


444    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

his  favor.  He  never  asked  the  alms  of  a  kindly  word 
or  glance,  by  looking  appealingly  to  one  and  another. 
It  became  his  habit  to  walk  with  his  eyes  downcast, 
not  speaking  to  nor  looking  toward  any  one  unless 
first  addressed.  At  the  same  time  his  bearing  was 
manly  and  erect,  and  marked  by  a  certain  quiet 
dignity  which  inevitably  characterizes  all  who  are 
honestly  trying  to  do  right. 

Because  he  asked  so  little  of  society  it  was  the 
more  disposed  to  give,  and  from  a  point  of  bare  tol 
eration  it  passed  on  to  a  willingness  to  patronize 
with  a  faint  encouraging  smile.  And  yet  it  was  the 
general  feeling  that  one  whose  name  had  been  so 
sadly  besmirched  must  be  kept  at  more  than  arm's 
length. 

"  He  may  get  to  heaven,"  said  an  old  lady  who 
was  remarking  upon  his  regular  attendance  at  church, 
"  but  he  can  never  hope  to  be  received  in  good  soci 
ety  again." 

In  the  meantime  the  isolated  youth  was  finding 
such  an  increasing  charm  in  the  companionship  of 
the  gifted  minds  who  spoke  to  him  from  the  printed 
pages  of  his  little  library  that  he  felt  the  deprivation 
less  and  less. 

But  an  hour  with  Mrs.  Arnot  was  one  of  his  chief 
pleasures,  to  which  he  looked  forward  with  glad  an 
ticipation.  For  a  long  time  he  could  not  bring  him 
self  to  go  to  her  house  or  to  take  the  risk  of  meeting 
any  of  her  other  guests,  and  in  order  to  overcome 
his  reluctance  she  occasionally  set  apart  an  evening 
for  him  alone  and  was  "engaged"  to  all  others. 
These  were  blessed  hours  to  the  lonely  young  fellow, 


GROWTH.  445 

and  their  memory  made  him  stronger  and  more 
hopeful  for  days  thereafter. 

In  his  Christian  experience  he  was  gaining  a  quiet 
serenity  and  confidence.  He  had  fully  settled  it  in 
his  mind,  as  Mrs.  Arnot  had  suggested,  that  Jesus 
Christ  was  both  willing  and  able  to  save  him,  and 
he  simply  trusted  and  tried  to  follow. 

"  Come,"  said  that  lady  to  him  one  evening,  "  it's 
time  you  found  a  nook  in  the  vineyard  and  went  to 
work." 

He  shook  his  head  emphatically  as  he  replied, 
"  I  do  not  feel  myself  either  competent  or  worthy. 
Besides,  who' would  listen  to  me  ?  " 

"  Many  might  with  profit.  You  can  carry  mes 
sages  from  Mr.  Ivison,  can  you  not  take  a  message 
from  your  Divine  Master  ?  I  have  thought  it  all 
over,  and  can  tell  you  where  you  will  be  listened  to 
at  least,  and  where  you  may  do  much  good.  I  went, 
last  Sunday,  to  the  same  prison  in  which  I  visited 
you,  and  I  read  to  the  inmates.  It  would  be  a  moral 
triumph  for  you,  Egbert,  to  go  back  there  as  a  Chris 
tian  man  and  with  the  honest  purpose  of  doing  good. 
It  would  be  very  pleasant  for  me  to  think  of  you  at 
work  there  every  Sabbath.  Make  the  attempt,  to 
please  me,  if  for  no  better  reason." 

"  That  settles  the  question,  Mrs.  Arnot,"  said  Hal- 
dane,  with  a  troubled  smile.  "  I  would  try  to  preach 
in  Choctaw,  if  you  requested  it,  and  I  fear  all  that 
I  can  say  '  out  o'  my  own  head/  as  Mr.  Growther 
would  put  it,  will  be  worse  than  Choctaw.  But  I 
can  at  least  read  to  the  prisoners  ;  that  is,"  he  added, 
with  downcast  eyes  and  a  flush  of  his  old  shame,  "  if 


446     KNIGHT   OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

they  will  listen  to  me,  which  I  much  doubt.  You, 
with  your  large  generous  sympathies,  can  never'un- 
derstand  how  greatly  I  am  despised,  even  by  my 
own  class."  . 

"-  Please  remember  that  I  am  of  your  class  now, 
for  you  are  of  the  household  of  faith.  I  know  what 
you  mean,  Egbert.  I  am  glad  that  you  are  so  diffi 
dent  and  so  little  inclined  to  ask  on  the  ground  of 
your  Christian  profession  that  the  past  be  over 
looked.  If  there  is  one  thing  that  disgusts  me  more 
than  another  it  is  the  disposition  to  make  one's  re 
ligion  a  stepping-stone  to  earthly  objects  and  the 
means  of  forcing  upon  others  a  familiarity  or  a  re 
lationship  that  is  offensive  to  them.  I  cannot  help 
doubting  a  profession  of  faith  that  is  put  to  such 
low  uses.  I  know  that  you  have  special  reason  for 
humility,  but  you  must  not  let  it  develop  into  timid 
ity.  All  I  ask  is  that  you  read  to  such  poor  crea 
tures  in  the  prison  as  will  listen  to  you  a  chapter  in 
the  Bible,  and  explain  it  as  well  as  you  can,  and 
then  read  something  else  that  you  think  will  interest 
them." 

Haldane  made  the  attempt,  and  met,  at  first,  as  he 
feared,  with  but  indifferent  success.  Even  criminals 
looked  at  him  askance  as  he  came  in  the  guise  of  a 
religious  teacher.  But  his  manner  was  so  unassum 
ing,  and  the  spirit  "  I  am  better  than  thou  "  was  so 
conspicuously  absent,  that  a  few  were  disarmed,  and 
partly  out  of  curiosity,  and  partly  to  kill  the  time 
that  passed  so  slowly,  they  gathered  at  his  invitation. 
He  sat  down  among  them  as  if  one  of  them,  and  in 
a  voice  that  trembled  with  diffidence  read  a  chapter 


GROWTH.  447 

from  the  gospels.  Since  he  "put  on  no  airs,"  as 
they  said,  one  and  another  drew  near  until  all  the 
inmates  of  the  jail  were  grouped  around  hkn.  Hav 
ing  finished  the  chapter,  Haldane  closed  the  Bible 
and  said  : 

"  I  do  not  feel  competent  to  explain  this  chapter. 
Perhaps  many  of  you  understand  it  better  than  I 
do.  I  did  not  even  feel  that  I  was  worthy  to  come 
here  and  read  the  chapter  to  you,  but  the  Christian 
lady  who  visited  you  last  Sunday  asked  me  to  come, 
and  I  would  do  any  thing  for  her.  She  visited  me 
when  I  was  a  prisoner  like  you,  and  through  her  in 
fluence  I  am  trying  to  be  a  better  man.  I  know, 
my  friends,  from  sad  experience,  that  when  we  get 
down  under  men's  feet,  and  are  sent  to  places  like 
these,  we  lose  heart  and  hope  ;  we  feel  that  there  is 
no  chance  for  us  to  get  up  again,  we  are  tempted  to 
be  despairing  and  reckless  ;  but  through  the  kindness 
and  mercy  of  that  good  lady,  Mrs.  Arnot,  I  learned 
of  a  kindness  and  mercy  even  greater  than  hers. 
The  world  may  hate  us,  scorn  us,  and  even  trample 
us  down,  and  if  we  will  be  honest  with  ourselves  we 
must  admit  that  we  have  given  it  some  reason  to  do 
all  this — at  least  I  feel  that  I  have — but  the  world 
can't  keep  us  down,  and  what  is  far  worse  than  the 
world,  the  evil  in  our  own  hearts  can't  keep  us 
down,  if  we  ask  Jesus  Christ  to  help  us  up..  I  am 
finding  this  out  by  experience,  and  so  know  the 
truth  of  what  I  am  saying.  This  Bible  tells  us 
about  this  strong,  merciful  One,  this  Friend  of  pub 
licans  and  sinners,  and  if  you  would  like  me  to  come 
.  here  Sunday  afternoons  and  read  about  him,  I  will 


448     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

do  so  very  gladly,  but  I  don't  wish  to  force  myself 
upon  you  if  I'm  not  wanted." 

"  Come;  my  hearty,  come  every  time,"  said  an  old 
sailor,  with  a  resounding  oath.  "  'Tain't  likely  I'll 
ever  ship  with  your  captain,  for  sech  as  I've  come  to 
be  couldn't  pass  muster.  Howsumever,  its  kind  o' 
comfortin'  to  hear  one  talk  as  if  there  was  plenty 
of  sea-room,  even  when  a  chap  knows  he's  drivin* 
straight  on  the  rocks." 

"  Come,  oh,  come  again,"  entreated  the  tremulous 
voice  of  one  who  was  crouching  a  little  back  of  his 
chair. 

Haldane  turned,  and  with  a  start  recognized  the 
fair  young  girl,  whose  blue  eyes  and  Madonna-like 
face  had,  for  a  moment,  even  in  the  agony  of  his 
own  shame^  secured  his  attention  while  in  the  police 
court,  more  than  a  year  before.  She  was  terribly 
changed,  and  yet  by  that  strange  principle  by  which 
we  keep  our  identity  through  all  mutations,  Hal 
dane  knew  that  she  was  the  same,  and  felt  that  by 
a  glance  he  could  almost  trace  back  her  life  through 
its  awful  descent,  to  the  time  when  she  was  a  beauti 
ful  and  innocent  girl.  As  a  swift  dark  tide  might 
sweep  a  summer  pinnace  from  its  moorings,  and  dash 
it  on  the  rocks  until  it  became  a  crushed  and  shape 
less  thing,  so  passion  or  most  untoward  circumstances 
had  suddenly  drawn  this  poor  young  creature  among 
coarse,  destructive  vices  that  had  shattered  the  deli 
cate,  womanly  nature  in  one  short  year  into  utter 
wreck. 

"  Come  again,"  she  whispered  in  response  to  Hal- 
dane's  glance  ;•"  come  soon,  or  else  I  shall  be  in  my 


GROWTH.  449 

grave,  and  I've  got  the  awful  fear  that  it  is  the 
mouth  of  the  bottomless  pit.  Otherwise  I'd  be  glad 
to  be  in  it." 

"  Poor  child !  "  said  Haldane,  tears  coming  into 
his  eyes.  . 

"  Ah  !  "  she  gasped,  "  will  God  pity  me  like  that  ?  " 

"  Yes,  for  the  Bible  says,  *  The  Lord  is  very 
pitiful  and  of  tender  mercy.'  My  own  despairing 
thoughts  have  taught  me  to  look  for  all  of  God's 
promises." 

"  You  know  nothing  of  the  depths  into  which  I 
have  fallen,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone ;  "  I  can  see  that 
in  your  face." 

Again  Haldane  ejaculated,  "  Poor  child  !  "  with  a 
heartfelt  emphasis  that  did  more  good  than  the  long 
est  homily.  Then  rinding  the  Bible  story  which  com 
mences,  "  And,  behold,  a  woman  in  the  city,  which 
was  a  sinner,"  he  turned  a  leaf  down  saying, 

"  I  am  neither  wise  enough  nor  good  enough  to 
guide  you,  but  I  know  that  Mrs.  Arnot  will  come 
and  see  you.  I  shall  leave  my  Bible  with  you,  and, 
until  she  comes,  read  where  I  have  marked." 

Mrs.  Arnot  did  come,  and  the  pure,  high-born 
woman  shut  the  door  of  the  narrow  cell,  and  taking 
the  head  of  her  fallen  sister  into  her  lap,  listened  with 
responsive  tears  to  the  piteous  story,  as  it  was  told 
with  sighs,  sobs,  and  strong  writhings  of  anguish. 

As  the  girl  became  calmer  and  her  mind  emerged 
from  the  chaos  of  her  tempestuous  and  despairing 
sorrow,  Mrs.  Arnot  led  her,  as  it  were,  to  the  very 
feet  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  and  left  her  there  with 
these  words: 


'450    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  He  came  to  seek  and  save  just  such  as  you  are 
— the  lost.  He  is  reaching  down  his  rescuing  hand 
of  love  to  you,  and  when  you  grasp  it  in  simple  con 
fiding  trust  you  are  saved." 

Before  the  week  closed,  the  poor  creature  forever 
turned  her  face  away  from  the  world  in  which  she 
had  so  deeply  sinned  and  suffered  ;  but  before  she 
departed  on  the  long  journey,  he  who  alone 'can 
grant  to  the  human  soul  full  absolution,  had  said  to 
her,  "  Thy  sins  are  forgiven  ;  go  in  peace." 

As  Mrs.  Arnot  held  her  dying  head  she  whispered, 
"  Tell  him  that  it  was  his  tears  of  honest  sympathy 
that  first  gave  me  hope." 

That  message  had  a  vital  influence  over  "Hal- 
dane's  subsequent  life.  Indeed  these  words  of  the 
poor  dying  waif  were  potent  enough  to  shape  all  his 
future  career.  He,  was  taught  by  them  the  magnetic 
power  of  sympathy,  and  that  he  who  in  the  depths 
of  his  heart  feels  for  his  fellow-creatures,  can  help 
them.  He  had  once  hoped  that  he  would  dazzle 
men's  eyes  by  the  brilliancy  of  his  career,  but  he 
had  long  since  concluded  that  he  must  plod  along 
the  lowly  paths  of  life.  Until  his  visit  to  the  prison 
and  its  results  the  thought  had  scarcely  occurred  to 
him  that  he  could  help  others.  He  had  felt  that  he 
had  been  too  sorely  wounded  himself  ever  to  be 
more  than  an  invalid  in  the  world's  hospital;  but  he 
now  began  to  learn  that  his  very  sin  and  suffering 
enabled  him  to  approach  nearer  to  those  who  were, 
as  he  was  once,  on  the  brink  of  despair  or  in  the 
apathy  of  utter  discouragement,  and  to  aid  them 
more  effectively  because  of  his  kindred  experience. 


GROWTH.  451 

The  truth  that  he,  in  the  humblest  possible  way, 
could  engage  in  the  noble  work  for  which  he  re 
vered  Mrs.  Arnot,  came  like  a  burst  of  sunlight 
into  his  shadowed  life,  and  his  visits  to  the  prison 
were  looked  forward  to  with  increasing  zest. 

From  reading  the  chapter  merely  he  came  to  ven 
ture  on  a  few  comments.  Then  questions  were 
asked,  and  he  tried  to  answer  some,  and  frankly 
said  he  could  not  answer  others.  But  these  ques 
tions  stimulated  his  mind  and  led  to  thought  and 
wider  reading.  To  his  own  agreeable  surprise,  as 
well  as  that  of  his  prison  class,  he  occasionally  was 
able  to  bring,  on  the  following  Sabbath,  a  very  satis 
factory  answer  to  some  of  the  questions;  and  this 
suggested  the  truth  that  all  questions  could  be" 
answered  if  only  time  and  wisdom  enough  could  be 
brought  to  bear  upon  them. 

He  gradually  acquired  a  facility  in  expressing  his 
thoughts,  and,  better  still,  he  had  thoughts  to  ex 
press.  Some  of  the  prisoners,  who  were  in  durance 
but  for  a  brief  time,  asked  him  to  take  a  class  in  the 
Guy-Street  Mission  Chapel. 

"  They  will  scarcely  want  me  there  as  a  teacher/' 
he  said  with  a  slight  flush. 

But  the  superintendent  and  pastor,  after  some  hesi 
tation  and  inquiry,  concluded  they  did  want  him 
there,  and  with  some  ex-prisoners  as  a  nucleus,  he 
unobtrusively  formed  a  class  near  the  door.  The 
two  marked  characteristics  of  his  Christian  efforts — 
downright  sincerity  and-sympathy — were  like  strong, 
far-reaching  hands,  and  his  class  began  to  grow  un 
til  it  swamped  the  small  neighboring  classes  with 


452     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY 

uncouth  and  unkempt-looking  creatures  that  were 
drawn  by  the  voice  that  asserted  their  manhood  and 
womanhood  in  spite  of  their  degradation.  Finally, 
before  another  year  ended,  a  large  side-room  was  set 
apart  for  Haldane  and  his  strange  following,  and  he 
made  every  one  that  entered  it,  no  matter  how  de 
based,  believe  that  there  were  possibilities  of  good 
in  them  yet,  and  he  was  able  to  impart  this  encour 
aging  truth  because  he  so  thoroughly  believed  it 
himself. 

As  he  stood  before  that  throng  of  publicans  and 
sinners,  gathered  from  the  slums  of  the  city,  and, 
with  his  fine  face  lighted  up  with  thought  and  sym 
pathy,  spoke  to  them  the  truth  in  such  a  way  that 
they  understood  it  and  felt  its  power,  one  could 
scarcely  have  believed  that  but  two  years  before  he 
had  been  dragged  from  a  drunken  brawl  to  the  com 
mon  jail.  The  explanation  is  simple — he  had  fol 
lowed  closely  that  same  divine  Master  who  had 
taught  the  fishermen  of  Galilee. 


LAURA   ROMEYN.  453 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

• 

LAURA  ROMEYN. 

MRS.  HALDANE  and  her  daughters  found 
European  life  so  decidedly  to  their  taste  that 
it  was  doubtful  whether  they  would  return  for  sev 
eral  years. .  The  son  wrote  regularly  to  his  mother, 
for  he  had  accepted  of  the  truth  of  Mrs.  Arnot's 
words  that  nothing  could  excuse  him  from  the  sacred 
duties  which  he  owed  to  her.  As  his  fortunes  im 
proved  and  time  elapsed  without  the  advent  of  more 
disgraceful  stories,  she  also  began  to  respond  as  fre 
quently  and  sympathetically  as  could  be  expected  of 
one  taking  her  views  of  life.  She  was  at  last  brought 
to  acquiesce  in  his  plan  of  remaining  at  Hillaton,  if 
not  to  approve  of  it,  and  after  receiving  one  or  two 
letters  from  Mrs.  Arnot,  she  was  inclined  to  believe 
in  the  sincerity  of  his  Christian  profession.  She  be 
gan  to  share  in  the  old  lady's  view  already  referred 
to,  that  he  might  reach  heaven  at  last,  but  could 
never  be  received  in  good  society  again. 

"  Egbert  .is  so  different  from  us,  my  dears,"  she 
would  sigh  to  her  daughters,  "  that  I  suppose  we 
sftould  not  judge  him  by  our  standards.  I  suppose 
he  is  doing  as  well  as  he  ever  will — as  well  indeed 
as  his  singularly  unnatural  disposition  permits." 


454    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

It  did  not  occur  to  the  lady  that  she  was  a  trifle 
unnatural  and  unchristian  herself  in  permitting  jeal 
ousy  to  creep  into  her  heart,  because  Mrs.  Arnot  had 
wielded  a  power  for  good  over  her  son  which  she 
herself  had  failed  to  exert. 

She  instructed  her  lawyer,  however,  to  pay  to  him 
an  annuity  that  was  far  beyond  his  needs  in  his 
present  frugal  way  of  living. 

This  ample  income  at  once  enabled  him  to  carry 
out  a  cherished  purpose,  which  had  been  forming 
in  his  mind  for  several  months,  and  which  he  now 
broached  to  Mrs.  Arnot. 

"  For  the  last  half  year,"  he  said,  "  I  have  thought 
a  great  deal  over  the  possibilities  that  life  offers 
to  one  situated  as  I  am.  I  have  tried  to  discover 
where  I  can  make  my  life-work,  maimed  and  defec 
tive  as  it  ever  must  be,,  most  effective,  and  it  has 
seemed  to  me  that  I  could  accomplish  more  as  a 
physician  than  in  any  other  calling.  In  this  charac 
ter  I  could  naturally  gain  access  to  those  who  are  in 
distress  of  body  ami  mind,  but  who  are  too  poor  to 
pay  for  ordinary  attendance.  There  are  hundreds 
in  this  city,  especially  little  children,  that,  through 
vice,  ignorance,  or  poverty,  never  receive  proper  at 
tention  in  illness.  My  services  would  not  be  refused 
by  this  class,  especially  if  they  were  gratuitous." 

"  You  should  charge  for  your  visits,  as  a  rule," 
said  wise  Mrs.  Arnot.  "  Never  give  charity  unless 
it  is  absolutely  necessary." 

"  Well,  I  could  charge  so  moderately  that  my  at 
tendance  would  not  be  a  burden.  I  am  very  grate 
ful  to  Mr.  Ivison  for  the  position  he  gave  me,  but  I 


LAURA   ROMEYN.  455 

would  like  to  do  something  more  and  better  in  life 
than  I  can  accomplish  as  his  clerk.  A  physician 
among  the  poor  has  so  many  chances  to  speak  the 
truth  to  those  who  might  otherwise  never  hear  it.. 
Now  this  income  from  my  father's  estate  would  en 
able  me  to  set  about  the  necessary  studies  at  once, 
and  the  only  question  in  my  mind  is,  will  they  re 
ceive  me  at  the  university?" 

"  Egbert,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  with  one  of  those 
sudden  illuminations  of  her  face  which  he  so  loved 
to  see,  "  do  you  remember  what  I  said  long  ago, 
when  you  were  a  disheartened  prisoner,  about  my 
ideal  of  knighthood  ?  If  you  keep  on  you  will  ful 
fill  it." 

"I  remember  it  well,"  he  replied,  "but  you  are 
mistaken.  My  best  hope  is  to  find,  as  you  said 
upon  another  occasion,  my  own  little  nook  in  the 
vineyard,  and  quietly  do  my  work  there." 

After  considerable  hesitation  the  faculty  of  the 
university  received  Haldane  as  a  student,  and  Mr. 
Ivison  parted  with  him  very  reluctantly.  His  studies 
for  the  past  two  years,  and  several  weeks  of  careful 
review,  enabled  him  to  pass  the  examinations  re 
quired  in  order  to  enter  the  Junior  year  of  the  col 
lege  course. 

As  his  name  appeared  among  those  who  might 
graduate  in  two  years,  the  world  still  further  relaxed 
its  rigid  and  forbidding  aspect,  and  not  a  few  took 
pains  to  manifest  to  him  their  respect  for  his  reso 
lute  upward  course. 

But  he  maintained  his  old,  distant,  unobtrusive 
manner,  and  no  one  was  obliged  to  recognize,  much 


456    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

less  to  show,  any  special  kindness  to  him,  unless  they 
chose  to  do  so.  He  evidently  shrank  with  a  morbid 
sensitiveness  from  any  social  contact  with  those 
who,  in  remembrance  of  his  past  history,  might  shrink 
from  him.  But  he  had  not  been  at  the  university 
very  long  before  Mrs.  Arnot  overcame  this  diffidence 
so  far  as  to  induce  him  to  meet  with  certain  manly 
fellows  of  his  class  at  her  house. 

In  all  the  frank  and  friendly  interchange  of  thought 
between  Mrs.  Arnot  and  the  young  man  there  was 
one  to  whom,  by  tacit  consent,  they  did  not  refer, 
except  in  the  most  casual  manner,  and  that  was 
Laura  Romeyn.  Haldane  had  not  seen  her  since 
the  time  she  stumbled  upon  him  in  his  character 
of  wood-sawyer.  He  kept  her  image  in  a  distant 
and  doubly-locked  chamber  of  his  heart,  and  seldom 
permitted  his  thoughts  to  go  thither.  Thus  the 
image  had  faded  into  a  faint  yet  lovely  outline  which 
he  had  learned  to  look  upon  with  a  regret  that  was 
now  scarcely  deep  enough  to  be  regarded  as  pain. 
She  had  made  one  or  two  brief  visits  to  her  aunt,  but 
he  had  taken  care  never  to  meet  her.  He  had  learn, 
ed  incidentally,  however,  that  she  had  lost  her  father, 
and  that  her  mother  was  far  from  well.. 

When  calling  upon  Mrs.  Arnot  one  blustering 
March  evening,  toward  the  close  of  his  Junior  year, 
that  lady  explained  her  anxious  clouded  face  by  say 
ing  that  her  sister,  Mrs.  Romeyn,  was  very  ill,  and 
after  a  moment  added,  half  in  soliloquy,  "  What 
would  she  do  without  Laura  ?  " 

From  this  he  gathered  that  the  young  girl  was  a 
loving  daughter  and  a  faithful  nurse,  and  the  image 


LAURA   ROMEYN.  457 

of  a  pale,  yet  lovely  watcher  rose  before  him  with 
dangerous  frequency  and  distinctness. 

A  day  or  two  after  he  received  a  note  from  Mrs. 
Arnot,  informing  him  that  she  was  about  to  leave 
home  for  a  visit  to  her  invalid  sister,  and  might  be 
absent  several  weeks.  Her  surmise  proved  correct, 
and  when  she  returned  Laura  came  with  her,  and 
the  deep  mourning  of  the  orphan's  dress  but  faintly 
reflected  the  darker  sorrow  that  shrouded  her  heart. 
When,  a  few  sabbaths  after  her  arrival,  her  vailed 
figure  passed  up  the  aisle  of  the  church,  he  bowed 
his  head  in  as  sincere  sympathy  as  one  person  can 
give  for  the  grief  of  another. 

For  a  long  time  he  did  not  venture  to  call  on 
Mrs.  Arnot,  and  then  only  came  at  her  request.  To 
his  great  relief,  he  did  not  see  Laura,  for  he  felt  that, 
conscious  of  her  great  loss  and  the  memories  of  the 
past,  he  should  be  speechless  in  her  presence.  To 
Mrs.  Arnot  he  said : 

"Your  sorrow  has  seemed  to  me  such  a  sacred 
thing  that  I  felt  that  any  reference  to  it  on  my  part 
would  be  like  a  profane  touch  ;  but  I  was  su»e  you 
would  not  misinterpret  rny  silence  or  my  absence, 
and  would  know  that  you  were  never  long  absent 
from  my  thoughts." 

He  was  rewarded  by  the  characteristic  lighting  up 
of  her  face  as  she  said  : 

"  Hillaton  would  scarcely  give  you  credit  for  such 
delicacy  of  feeling,  Egbert,  but  you  are  fulfilling 
my  faith  in  you.  Neither  have  I  forgotten  you  and 
your  knightly  conflict  because  I  have  not  seen  or 
written  to  you.  You  know  well  that  my  heart  and 

20 


458    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

hands  have  been  full.  And  now  a  very  much  longer 
time  must  elapse  before  we  can  meet  again.  In  her 
devotion  to  her  mother  my  niece  has  overtaxed  her 
strength,  and  her  physical  and  mental  depression  is 
so  great  that  our  physician  strongly  recommends 
a  year  abroad.  You  can  see  how  intensely  occu 
pied  I  have  been  in  preparations  for  our  hurried 
departure.  We  sail  this  week.  I  shall  see  your 
mother,  no  doubt,  and  I  am  glad  I  can  tell  her  that 
which  I  should  be  proud  to  hear  of  a  son  of  mine." 

The  year  that  followed  was  a  long  one  to  Hal- 
dane.  He  managed  to  keep  the  even  tenor  of  his 
way,  but  it  was  often  as  the  soldier  makes  his  weary 
march  in  the  enemy's  country,  fighting  for  and 
holding,  step  by  step,  with  difficulty.  His  intense 
application  in  his  first  year  of  study  and  the  excite 
ments  of  the  previous  years  at 'last  told  upon  him, 
and  he  often  experienced  days  of  extreme  lassitude 
and  weariness.  At  one  time  he  was  quite  ill,  and 
then  he  realized  how  lonely  and  isolated  he  was.  He 
still  kept  his  quarters  at  the  hermitage,  but  Mr. 
Growther,  with  the  kindest  intentions,  was  too  old 
and  decrepit  to  prove  much  of  a  nurse. 

In  his  hours  of  enforced  idleness  his  imagination 
began  to  retouch  the  shadowy  image  of  Laura 
Romeyn  with  an  ideal  beauty.  In  his  pain  and 
weakness  her  character  of  watcher — in  which  her 
self-sacrificing  devotion  had  been  so  great  as  to  im 
pair  her  health — was  peculiarly  attractive.  She  be 
came  to  him  a  pale  and  lovely  saint,  too  remote 
and  sacred  for  his  human  love,  and  yet  sufficiently 
human  to  continually  haunt  his  mind  with  a  vague 


LAURA   ROMEYN.  459 

and  regretful  pain  that  he  could  never  reach  her 
side.  He  now  learned  from  its  loss  how  valuable 
Mrs.  Arnot's  society  had  been  to  him.  Her  letters, 
which  were  full  and  moderately  frequent,  could  not 
take  the  place  of  her  quiet  yet  inspiriting  voice. 

He  was  lonely,  and  he  recognized  the  fact.  While 
there  were  hundreds  now  in  Hillaton  who  wished 
him  well,  and  respected  him  for  his  brave  struggle, 
he  was  too  shadowed  by  disgraceful  memories  to  be 
received  socially  into  the  homes  that  he  would  care 
to  visit.  Some  of  the  church  people  invited  him 
out  of  a  sense  of  duty,  but  he  recognized  their 
motive,  and  shrank  from  such  constrained  courtesy 
with  increasing  sensitiveness. 

But,  though  he  showed  human  weakness  and  gave 
way  to  long  moods  of  despondency,  at  times  inclin 
ing  to  murmur  bitterly  at  his  lot,  he  suffered  no 
serious  reverses.  He  patiently,  even  in  the  face 
of  positive  disinclination,  maintained  his  duties. 
He  remembered  how  often  the  Divine  Man,  in  his 
shadowed  life,  went  apart  for  prayer,  and  honestly 
tried  to  imitate  this  example,  so  specially  suited  to 
one  as  maimed  and  imperfect  as  himself. 

He  found  that  his  prayers  were  answered,  that  the 
strong  Friend  to  whom  he  had  allied  his  weakness 
did  not  fail  him.  He  was  sustained  through  the 
dark  days,  and  his  faith  eventually  brought  him 
peace  and  serenity.  He  gained  in  patience  and 
strength,  and  with  better  health  came  renewed  hope 
fulness. 

Although  not  a  brilliant  student,  he  was  able  to 
complete  his  university  course  and  graduate  with 


460    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

credit.  He  then  took  the  first  vacation  that  he  had 
enjoyed  for  years,  and,  equipping  himself  with  fishing 
rod  and  a  few  favorite  authors,  he  buried  himself  in 
the  mountains  of  Maine. 

His  prison  and  mission  classes  missed  him  sadly. 
Mr.  Growther  found  that  he  could  no  longer  live  a 
hermit's  life,  and  began  in  good  earnest  to  look  for 
the  "  little,  peaked-faced  chap  "  that  had  grown  to 
be  more  and  more  of  a  reality  to  him  ;  but  the  rest 
of  Hillaton  almost  forgot  that  Haldane  had  ever 
existed. 

In  the  autumn  he  returned,  brown  and  vigorous, 
and  entered  upon  his  studies  at  the  medical  school 
connected  with  the  university  with  decided  zest. 
To  his  joy  he  found  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Arnot,  inform 
ing  him  that  the  health  of  her  niece  was  fully  re 
stored,  and  that  they  were  about  to  return.  And 
yet  it  was  with  misgivings  that  he  remembered  that 
Laura  would  henceforth  be  an  inmate  of  Mrs.  Ar- 
not's  home.  As  a  memory,  however  beautiful,  she 
was  too  shadowy  to  disturb  his  peace.  Would  this 
be  true  if  she  had  fulfilled  all  the  rich  promises  of 
her  girlhood,  and  he  saw  her  often  ? 

With  a  foreboding  of  future  trouble  he  both 
dreaded  and  longed  to  see  once  more  the  maiden 
who  had  once  so  deeply  stirred  his  heart,  and  who 
in  the  depths  of  his  disgrace  had  not  scorned  him 
when  accidentally  meeting  him  in  guise  and  at  the 
tasks  of  a  common  laborer. 

It  was  with  a  quickened  pulse  that  he  read  in 
the  Spy,  one  Monday  evening,  that  Mrs.  Arnot  and 
niece  had  arrived  in  town.  It  was  with  a  quicker 


LAURA   ROMEYN.  461 

pulse  that  he  received  a  note  from  her  a  few  days 
later  asking  him  to  call  that  evening,  and  adding  that 
two  or  three  other  young  men  whom  he  knew  to  be 
her  especial  favorites  would  be  present. 

Because  our  story  has  confined  itself  chiefly  to 
the  relations  existing  between  Haldane  and  Mrs- 
Arnot,  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  her  active  sym 
pathies  were  enlisted  in  behalf  of  many  others,  some 
of  whom  were  almost  equally  attached  to  her  and 
she  to  them. 

After  a  little  thought  Haldane  concluded  that 
he  would  much  prefer  that  his  first  interview  with 
Laura  should  be  in  the  presence  of  others,  for  he 
could  then  keep  in  the  background  without  exciting 
remark. 

He  sincerely  hoped  that  when  he  saw  her  he 
might  find  that  her  old  power  over  him  was  a  broken 
spell,  and  that  the  lovely  face  which  had  haunted 
him  all  these  years,  growing  more  beautiful  with 
time,  was  but  the  creation  of  his  own  fancy.  He 
was  sure  she  would  still  be  pretty,  but  if  that  were 
all  he  could  go  on  his  way  without  a  regretful 
thought.  But  if  the  shy  maiden,  whose  half-entreat 
ing,  compassionate  tones  had  interrupted  the  harsh 
rasping  of  his  saw  years  ago,  were  the  type  of  the 
woman  whom  he  should  meet  that  evening,  might 
not  the  bitterest  punishment  of  his  folly  be  still  be 
fore  him  ? 

He  waited  till  sure  that  the  other  guests  had  ar 
rived,  and  then  entered  to  meet,  as  he  believed, 
either  a  hopeless  thraldom  or  complete  disenchant 
ment. 


462    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

As  he  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  parlor  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  Mrs.  Arnot  again,  and  of  re 
ceiving  her  cordial  greeting,  obliterated  all  other 
thoughts  from  his  mind. 

He  had,  however,  but  a  moment's  respite,  for  the 
lady  said : 

"  Laura,  my  friend  Mr.  Haldane." 

He  turned  and  saw,  by  actual  vision,  the.  face  that 
in  fancy  he  had  so  often  looked  upon.  It  was  not  the 
face  that  he  expected  to  see  at  all.  The  shy,  blue- 
eyed  maiden,  who  might  have  reminded  one  of  a 
violet  half  hidden  among  the  grass,  had  indeed  van 
ished,  but  an  ordinary  pretty  woman  had  not  taken 
her  place. 

He  felt  this  before  he  had  time  to  consciously  ob 
serve  it,  and  bowed  rather  low  to  hide  his  burning 
face ;  but  she  frankly  held  out  her  hand  and  said, 
though  with  somewhat  heightened  color  also  : 

"  Mr.  Haldane,  I  am  glad  to  meet  you  again." 

Then,  either  to  give  him  time  to  recover  himself, 
or  else,  since  the  interruption  was  over,  she  was 
glad  to  resume  the  conversation  that  had  been  sus 
pended,  she  turned  to  her  former  companions.  Mrs. 
Arnot  also  left  him  to  himself  a  few  moments,  and 
by  a  determined  effort  he  sought  to  calm  the  tumul 
tuous  riot  of  his  blood.  He  was  not  phlegmatic  on 
any  occasion ;  but  even  Mrs.  Arnot  could  not  .un 
derstand  why  he  should  be  so  deeply  moved  by 
this  meeting.  She  ascribed  it  to  the  painful  and 
''humiliating  memories  of  the  past,  and  then  dis 
missed  his  manner  from  her  mind.  He  speedily 
gained  self-control,  and,  as  is  usual  with  strong 


LAURA   ROMEYN.  463 

natures,  became  unusually  quiet  and  undemonstra 
tive.  Only  in  the  depths  of  his  dark  eyes  could  one 
have  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  troubled  spirit  within, 
for  it  was  troubled  with  a  growing  consciousness  of 
an  infinite  loss. 


464    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINE  TEENTH  CENTUR  Y. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

MISJUDGED. 

THE  young  men  who  were  Mrs.  Arnot's  guests 
were  naturally  attracted  to  Laura's  side,  and 
she  speedily  proved  that  she  possessed  the  rare 
power  of  entertaining  several  gentlemen  at  the  same 
time,  and  with  such  grace  and  tact  as  to  make  each 
one  feel  that  his  presence  was  both  welcome  and 
needed  in  the  circle. 

Mrs.  Arnot  devoted  herself  to  Haldane,and  showed 
how  genuine  was  her  interest  in  him  by  taking  up  his 
life  where  his  last  letter  left  it,  and  asking  about  all 
that  had  since  occurred.  Indeed,  with  almost  a 
mother's  sympathy,  she  led  him  to  speak  of  the  ex 
periences  of  the  entire  year. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  he  said,  "  that  I  have  scarcely 
more  than  held  my  ground." 

"To  hold  one's  ground,  at  times  requires  more 
courage,  more  heroic  patience  and  fortitude,  than  any 
other  effort  we  can  make.  I  have  been  told  that 
soldiers  can  charge  against  any  odds  better  than  they 
can  simply  and  coolly  stand  their  ground.  But  I  can 
see  that  you  have  been  making  progress.  You  have 
graduated  with  honor.  You  are  surely  winning  es- 


MISJUDGED.  465 

teem  and  confidence.  You  have  kept  your  -faith  in 
God,  and  maintained  your  peculiar  usefulness  to  a 
class  that  so  few  can  reach :  perhaps  you  are  doing 
more  good  than  any  of  us,  by  proving  that  the  fallen 
can  rise  is  a  fact,  and  not  a  theory." 

"  You  are  in  the  world,  but  not  of  it,"  he  said  ; 
and  then,  as  if  anxious  to  change  the  subject,  asked, 
"  Did  you  see  my  mother  ? " 

Although  Mrs.  Arnot  did  not  intend  it,  there  was 
a  slight  constraint  in  her  voice  and  manner  as  she 
replied :  "  Yes,  I  took  especial  pains  to  see  her  be 
fore  I  returned,  and  went  out  of  my  way  to  do  so.  I 
wished  to  assure  her  how  well  you  were  doing,  and 
how  certain  you  were  to  retrieve  the  past,  all  of 
which,  of  course,  she  was  very  glad  to  hear." 

"  Did  she*  send  me  no  message  ? "  he  asked,  in 
stinctively  feeling  that  something  was  wrong. 

"  She  said  that  she  wrote  to  you  regularly,  and  so, 
of  course,  felt  that  there  was  no  need  of  sending  any 
verbal  messages." 

"  Was  she  not  cordial  to  you  ? "  asked  the  young 
man,  with  a  dark  frown. 

"  She  was  very  polite,  Egbert.  I  think  she  mis 
understands  me  a  little." 

His  face  flushed  with  indignation,  and  after  a  mo 
ment's  thought  he  said  bitterly,  and  with  something 
like  contempt,  "  Poor  mother !  she  is  to  be  pitied." 

Mrs.  Arnot's  face  became  very  grave,  and  almost 
severe,  and  she  replied,  with  an  emphasis  which  he 
never  forgot, 

"  She  is  to  be  loved ;  she  is  to  be  cherished  with 


466    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY.    , 

the  'most  delicate  consideration  and  forbearance,  and 
honored — yes,  honored — because  she  is  your  mother. 
You,  as  her  son,  should  never  say,  nor  permit  any 
one  to  say,  a  word  against  her.  Nothing  can  absolve 
you  from  this  sacred  duty.  Remember  this  as  you 
hope  to  be  a  true  man." 

This  was  Mrs.  Arnot's  return  for  the  small  jealousy 
of  her  girlhood's  friend. 

He  bowed  his  head,  and  after  a  moment  replied  : 
"  Mrs.  Arnot,  I  feel,  I  know,  you  are  right.  I  thank 
you." 

"  Now  you  are  my  knight  again,"  she  said,  her 
face  suddenly  lighting  up.  "  But  come  ;  let  us  join 
the  others,  for  they  seem  to  have  hit  upon  a  very 
mirthful  and  animated  discussion." 

Laura's  eye  and  sympathies  took  them  in  at  once 
as  they  approached,  and  enveloped  them  in  the  genial 
and  magnetic  influences  which  she  seemed  to  have 
the  power  of  exerting.  Although  naturally  and 
deeply  interested  in  his  interview  with  Mrs.  Arnot, 
Haldane's  eyes  and  thoughts  had  been  drawn  fre 
quently  and  irresistibly  to  the  object  of  his  old-time 
passion.  She  was,  indeed,  very  different  from  what 
he  had  expected.  The  diffident  maiden,  so  slight  in 
form  and  shy  in  manner,  had  not  developed  into  a 
drooping  lily  of  a  woman,  suggesting  that  she  must 
always  have  a  manly  support  of  some  kind  near  at 
hand.  Still  less  had  she  become  a  typical  belle,  and 
the  aggressive  society  girl  who  captures  and  amuses 
herself  with  her  male  admirers  with  the  grace  and 
sang  froid  of  a  sportive  kitten  that  carefully  keeps  a 


MISJUDGED.  467 

hapless  mouse  within  reach  of  her  velvet  paw.  The 
pale  and  saint-like  image  which  he  had  so  long  en 
shrined  within  his  heart,  and  which  had  been  created 
by  her  devotion  to  her  mother,  also  faded  utterly 
away  in  the  presence  of  the  reality  before  him.  She 
was  a  veritable  flesh-and-blood  woman,  with  the  hue 
of  health  upon  her  cheek,  and  the  charm  of  artistic 
beauty  in  her  rounded  form  and  graceful  manner. 
She  was  a  revelation  to  him,  transcending  not  only 
all  that  he  had  seen,  but  all  that  he  had  imagined. 

Thus  far  he  had  not  attained  a  moral  and  intel 
lectual  culture  which  even  enabled  him  to  idealize  so 
beautiful  and  perfect  a  creature.  She  was  not  a  saint 
in  the  mystical  or  imaginative  sense  of  the  word,  but, 
as  a  queen  reigning  by  the  divine  right  of  her  sur 
passing  loveliness  and  grace  in  even  Hillaton's  ex 
clusive  society,  she  was  practically  as  far  removed 
from  him  as  if  she  were  an  ideal  saint  existing  only 
in  a  painter's  haunted  imagination. 

Nature  had  dowered  Laura  Romeyn  very  richly 
both  in  the  graces  of  person  and  mind  ;  but  many 
others  are  equally  favored.  Her  indescribable  charm 
arose  from  the  fact  that  she  was  very  receptive  in 
her  disposition.  She  had  been  wax  to  receive,  but 
marble  to  retain.  Therefore,  since  she  had  always 
lived  and  breathed  in  an  atmosphere  of  culture,  re 
finement,  and  Christian  faith,  her  character  had  the 
exquisite  beauty  and  fragrance  which  belongs  to  a 
rare  flower  to  which  all  the  conditions  of  perfect  de 
velopment  have  been  supplied.  Although  the  light 
of  her  eye  was  serene,  and  her  laugh  as  clear  and 


468    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

natural  as  the  fall  of  water,  there  was  a  nameless 
something  which  indicated  that  her  happy,  healthful 
nature  rested  against  a>  dark  back-ground  of  sorrow 
and  trial,  and  was  made  the  richer  and  more  perfect 
thereby. 

Her  self -forgetfuln ess  was  contagious.  The  beau 
tiful  girl  -did  not  look  from  one  to  another  of  the 
admiring  circle  for  the  sake  of  picking  up  a  small 
revenue  of  flattery.  From  a  native  generosity  she 
wished  to  give  pleasure  to  her  guests  ;  from  a  holy 
principle  instilled  into  her  nature,  so  long  ago  that 
she  was  no  longer  conscious  of  it,  she  wished  to  do 
them  good  by  suggesting  only  such  thoughts  as  men 
associate  with  pure,  good  women  ;  and  from  an  ear 
nest,  yet  sprightly  mind,  she  took  a  genuine  interest 
herself  in  the  subjects  on  which  they  were  conversing. 

By  her  tact,  and  with  Mrs.  Arnot's  efficient  aid, 
she  drew  all  intQ  the  current  of  their  talk.  The  three 
other  young  men  who  were  Mrs.  Arnot's  guests  that 
evening  were  manly  fellows,  and  had  come  to  treat 
Haldane  with  cordial  respect.  Thus  for  a  time  he 
was  made  to  forget  all  that  had  occurred  to  cloud  his 
life.  He  found  that  the  presence  of  Laura  kindled 
his  intellect  with  a  fire  of  which  he  had  never  been 
conscious  before.  His  eyes  flashed  sympathy  with 
every  word  she  said,  and  before  he  was  aware  he, 
too,  was  speaking  his  mind  with  freedom,  for  he  saw 
no  chilling  repugnance  toward  him  in  the  kindly 
light  of  her  deep  blue  eyes.  She  led  him  to  so  com 
pletely  forget  himself  and  his  past  that  he,  in  the  ex 
citement  of  argument,  inadvertently  pronounced  his 


MISJUDGED.  469 

own  doom.  In  answer  to  the  remark  of  another,  he 
said  : — 

"  Society  is  right  in  being  conservative  and  exclu 
sive,  and  its  favor  should  be  the  highest  earthly 
reward  of  a  stainless  life.  The  coarse  and  the  vulgar 
should  be  taught  that  they  cannot  purchase  it  nor 
elbow  their  way  into  it,  and  those  who  have  it 
should  be  made  to  feel  that  losing  it  is  like  losing 
life,  for  it  can  never  be  regained.  Thus  society  not 
only  protects  itself,  but  prevents  weak  souls  from 
dallying  with  temptation." 

So  well-bred  was  Laura  that,  while  her  color 
deepened  at  his  words,  she  betrayed  no  other  con 
sciousness  that  they  surprised  her.  But  he  suddenly 
remembered  all,  and  the  blood  rushed  tumultuously 
to  his  face,  then  left  it  very  pale. 

"  What  I  have  said  is  true,  nevertheless,"  he  add 
ed  quietly  and  decisively,  as  if  in  answer  to  these 
thoughts  ;  "  and  losing  one's  place  in  society  may  be 
worse  than  losing  life." 

He  felt  that  this  was  true,  as  he  looked  at  the 
beautiful  girl  before  him,  so  kind  and  gentle,  and  yet 
so  unapproachable  by  him  ;  and,  what  is  more,  he 
saw  in  her  face  pitying  acquiescence  to  his  words. 
As  her  aunt's  prottgt,  as  a  young  man  trying  to  re 
form,  he  felt  that  he  would  have  her  good  wishes  and 
courteous  treatment,  but  never  any  thing  more. 

"Egbert,  I  take  issue  with  you,"  began  Mrs.  Arnot 
warmly ;  but  further  remark  was  interrupted  by  the 
entrance  of  a  gentleman,  who  was  announced  as 

"  Mr.  Beaumont." 


470    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

There  was  a  nice  distinction  between  the  greeting 
given  by  Mrs.  Arnot  to  this  gentleman  and  that  which 
she  had  bestowed  upon  Haldane  and  her  other  guests. 
His  reception  was  simply  the  perfection  of  quiet 
courtesy,  and  no  one  could  have  been  sure  that  the 
lady  was  glad  to  see  him.  She  merely  welcomed 
him  as  a  social  equal  to  her  parlors,  and  then  turned 
again  to  her  friends. 

But  Laura  had  a  kindlier  greeting  for  the  new 
comer.  While  her  manner  was  equally  undemon 
strative,  her  eyes  lighted  up  with  pleasure  and  the 
color  deepened  in  her  cheeks.  It  was  evident  that 
they  were  old  acquaintances,  and  that  he  had  found 
previous  occasions  for  making  himself  very  agreeable. 

Mr.  Beaumont  did  not  care  to  form  one  of  a  circle. 
He  was  in  the  world's  estimation,  possibly  in  his 
own,  a  complete  circle  in  himself,  rounded  out  and 
perfect  on  every  side.  He  was  the  only  son  in  one 
of  the  oldest  and  most  aristocratic  families  in  the 
city  ;  he  was  the  heir  of  very  large  wealth  ;  his  care 
ful  education  had  been  supplemented  by  years  of 
foreign  travel ;  he  was  acknowledged  to  be  the  best 
connoisseur  of  art  in  Hillaton  ;  and  to  his  irreproach 
able  manners  was  added  an  irreproachable  character. 
"  He  is  a  perfect  gentleman,"  was  the  verdict  of  the 
best  society  wherever  he  appeared. 

Something  to  this  effect  Haldane  learned  from  one 
of  the  young  men  with  whom  he  had  been  spending 
the  evening,  as  they  bent  their  steps  homeward — 
for  soon  after  Mr.  Beaumont's  arrival  all  took  their 
departure. 


MISJUDGED.  471 

That  gentleman  seemed  to  bring  in  with  him  a 
different  atmosphere  from  that  which  had  prevailed 
hitherto.  Although  his  bow  was  distant  to  Hal- 
dane  when  introduced,  his  manner  had  been  the 
perfection  of  politeness  to  the  others.  For  some 
reason,  however,  there  had  been  a  sudden  restraint 
and  chill.  Possibly  they  had  but  unconsciously 
obeyed  the  strong  will  of  Mr.  Beaumont,  who  wished 
their  departure.  He  was  almost  as  resolute  in  having 
his  own  way  as  Mr.  Arnot  himself.  Not  that  he  was 
ever  rude  to  any  one  in  any  circumstances,  but  he 
could  politely  freeze  objectionable  persons  out  of  a 
room  as  effectually  as  if  he  took  them  by  the  shoul 
ders  and  walked  them  out.  There  was  so  much  in 
his  surroundings  and  antecedents  to  sustain  his  quiet 
assumption,  that  the  world  was  learning  to  say,  "By 
your  leave,"  on  all  occasions. 

Haldane  was  not  long  in  reaching  a  conclusion  as 
he  sat  over  a  dying  fire  in  his  humble  quarters  at  the 
hermitage.  If  he  saw  much  of  Laura  Romeyn  he 
would  love  her  of  necessity  by  every  law  of  his  being. 
Assuring.himself  of  the  hopelessness  of  his  affection 
would  make  no  difference  to  one  of  his  temperament. 
He  was  not  one  who  could  coolly  say  to  his  ardent 
and  impetuous  nature,  "  Thus  far,  and  no  farther." 
There  was  something  in  her  every  tone,  word,  and 
movement  which  touched  chords  within  his  heart 
that  vibrated  pleasurably  or  painfully. 

This  power  cannot  be  explained.  It  was  not  pas 
sion.  Were  Laura  far  more  beautiful,  something  in 
her  manner  or  character  might  speedily  have  broken 


472    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTUR  Y. 

the  spell  by  which  she  unconsciously  held  her  cap 
tive.  His  emotion  in  no  respect  resembled  the 
strong  yet  restful  affection  that  he  entertained  for 
Miss  Arnot.  Was  it  love  ?  Why  should  he  love 
one  who  would  not  love  in  return,  and  who,  both  in 
the  world's  and  his  own  estimation,  was  infinitely  be 
yond  his  reach  ?  However  much  his  reason  might 
condemn  his  feelings,  however  much  he  might  regret 
the  fact,  his  heart  trembled  at  her  presence,  and,  by 
some  instinct  of  its  own,  acknowledged  its  mistress. 
He  was  compelled  to  admit  to  himself  that  he  loved 
her  already,  and  that  his  boyhood's  passion  had  only 
changed  as  he  had  changed,  and  had  become  the 
strong  and  abiding  sentiment  of  the  man.  She  only 
could  have  broken  the  power  by  becoming  common 
place,  by  losing  the  peculiar  charm  which  she  had 
for  him  from  the  first.  But  now  he  could  not  choose  ; 
he  had  met  his  fate. 

One  thing,  however,  he  could  do,  and  that  he  re 
solved  upon  before  he  closed  his  eyes  in  sleep  in  the 
faint  dawning  of  the  following  day.  He  would  not 
flutter  as  a  poor  moth  where  he  could  not  be  received 
as  an  accepted  lover. 

This  resolution  he  kept.  He  did  not  cease  calling 
upon  Mrs.  Arnot,  nor  did  the  quiet  warmth  of  his 
manner  toward  her  change ;  but  his  visits  became 
less  frequent,  he  pleading  the  engrossing  character 
of  his  studies,  and  the  increasing  preparation  re 
quired  to  maintain  his  hold  on  his  mission-class  ;  but 
the  lady's  delicate  intuition  was  not  long  in  divining 
the  true  cause.  One  of  his  unconscious  glances  at 


MISJUDGED.  473 

Laura  revealed  his  heart  to  her  woman's  eye  as 
plainly  as  could  any  spoken  words.  But  by  no  word 
or  hint  did  Mrs.  Arnot  reveal  to  him  her  knowledge. 
Her  tones  might  have  been  gentler  and  her  eyes 
kinder  ;  that  was  all.  In  her  heart,  however,  she  al 
most  revered  the  man  who  had  the  strength  and 
patience  to  take  up  this  heavy  and  Hopeless  burden, 
and  go  on  in  the  path  of  duty  without  a  word.  How 
different  was  his  present  course  from  his  former  pas 
sionate  clamor  for  what  was  then  equally  beyond  his 
reach  !  She  was  almost  provoked  at  her  niece  that 
she  did  not  appreciate  Haldane  more.  But  would 
she  wish  her  peerless  ward  to  marry  this  darkly  shad 
owed  man,  to  whom  no  parlor  in  Hillaton  was  open 
save  her  own  ?  Even  Mrs.  Arnot  would  shrink  from 
this  question. 

Laura,  too,  had  perceived  that  which  Haldane 
meant  to  hide  from  all  the  world.  When  has  a  beau 
tiful  woman  failed  to  recognize  her  worshipers  ?  But 
there  was  nothing  in  Laura's  nature  which  per 
mitted  her  to  exult  over  such  a  discovery.  She  could 
not  resent  as  presumption  a  love  that  was  so  un 
obtrusive,  for  it  became  more  and  more  evident  as 
time  passed  that  the  man  who  was  mastered  by  it 
would  never  voluntarily  give  to  her  the  slightest 
hint  of  its  existence.  She  was  pleased  that  he  was 
so  sensible  as  to  recognize  the  impassable  gulf 
between  them,  and  that  he  did  not  go  moaning  along 
the  brink,  thus  making  a  spectacle  of  himself, 
and  becoming  an  annoyance  to  her.  Indeed,  she 
sincerely  respected  him  for  his  reticence  and  self- 


474   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

control,  but  she  also  misjudged  him  ;  for  he  was  so 
patient  and  strong,  and  went  forward  with  his  duties 
so  quietly  and  steadily,  that  she  was  inclined  to  be 
lieve  that  his  feelings  toward  her  were  not  very  deep, 
or  else  that  he  was  so  constituted  that  affairs  of  the 
heart  did  not  give  him  very  much  trouble. 


LA  URA  CHOOSES  HER  KNIGHT.  475 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

LAURA    CHOOSES   HER   KNIGHT. 

"  \T7HY,  Laura,  how  your  cheeks  burn!"   ex- 
V  V     claimed   Mrs.  Arnot   as   she   entered   her 
niece's  room  one  afternoon. 

"  Now,  don't  laugh  at  me  for  being  so  foolish,  but 
I  have  become  absurdly  excited  over  this  story. 
Scott  was  well  called  the  'Wizard  of  the  North.' 
What  a  spell  he  weaves  over  his  pages  !  When  reading 
some  of  his  descriptions  of  men  and  manners  in  those 
old  chivalric  times,  I  feel  that  I  have  been  born  some 
centuries  too  late — in  our  time  every  thing  is  so 
matter-of-fact,  and  the  men  are  so  prosaic.  The 
world  moves  on  with  a  steady  business  jog,  or,  to 
change  the  figure,  with  the  monotonous  clank  of 
uncle's  machinery.  My  castle  in  the  air  would  be 
the  counterpart  of  those  which  Scott  describes." 

"  Romantic  as  ever,"  laughed  her  aunt ;  "  and  that 
reminds  me,  by  the  way,  of  the  saying  that  romantic 
girls  always  marry  matter-of-fact  men,  which,  I  sup 
pose,  will  be  your  fate.  I  confess  I  much  prefer  our 
own  age.  Your  stony  castles  make  me  shiver  with 
a  sense  of  discomfort ;  and  as  for  the  men,  I  imagine 
they  are  much  the  same  now  as  then,  for  human 
nature  does  not  change  much." 


476    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTUR  Y. 

"  O,  auntie,  what  a  prosaic  speech  !  Uncle  might 
have  made  it  himself.  The  idea  of  men  being  much 
the  same  now !  Why,  in  that  day  there  were  the 
widest  and  most  picturesque  differences  between 
men  of  the  same  rank.  There  were  horrible  villains, 
and  then,  to  vanquish  these  and  undo  the  mischief 
they  were  ever  causing,  there  were  knights  sans 
peur  et  sans  reproche.  But  now  a  gentleman  is  a 
gentleman,  and  all  made  up  very  much  in  the  same 
style,  like  their  dress  coats.  I  would  like  to  have 
seen  at  least  one  genuine  knight — a  man  good 
enough  and  brave  enough  to  do  and  to  dare  any 
thing  to  which  he  could  be  impelled  by  a  most  chiv- 
alric  sense  of  duty.  About  the  most  heroic  thing  a 
man  ever  did  for  me  was  to  pick  up  my  fan." 

Mrs.  Arnot  thought  of  one  man  whose  heart  was 
almost  breaking  for  her,  and  yet  who  maintained 
such  a  quiet,  masterful  self-control  that  the  object  of 
his  passion,  which  had  become  like  a  torturing  flame, 
was  not  subjected  to  even  the  slightest  annoyance; 
and  she  said,  "  You  are  satirical  to-day.  In  my 
opinion  there  are  as  true  knights  now  as  your  favor 
ite  author  ever  described." 

"  Not  in  Hillaton,"  laughed  Laura,  "  or  else  their 
disguise  is  perfect." 

"  Yes,  in  Hillaton,"  replied  Mrs.  Arnot,  with  some 
warmth,  "  and  among  the  visitors  at  this  house.  I 
know  of  one  who  bids  fair  to  fulfill  my  highest  ideal 
of  knighthood,  and  I  think  you  will  do  me  the  just 
ice  to  believe  that  my  standard  is  not  a  low  one." 

"Auntie,  you  fairly  take  away  my  breath!"  said 


LA  URA  CHOOSES  HER  KNIGHT. 


477 


Laura,  in  the  same  half-jesting  spirit.  "  Where  have 
been  my  eyes  ?  Pray,  who  is  this  paragon,  who  must, 
indeed,  be  nearly  perfect,  to  satisfy  your  standard  ? " 

"  You  must  discover  him  for  yourself  ;  as  you  say, 
he  appears  to  be  but  a  gentleman,  and  would  be  the 
last  one  in  the  world  to  think  of  himself  as  a  knight, 
or  to  fill  your  ideal  of  one.  You  must  remember  the 
character  of  our  age.  If  one  of  your  favorite  knights 
should  step,  armed  cap-a-pie,  out  of  Scott's  pages,  all 
the  dogs  in  town  would  be  at  his  heels,  and  he  would 
probably  bring  up  at  the  station-house.  My  knight 
promises  to  become  the  flower  of  his  own  age.  Now 
I  think  of  it,  I  do  not  like  the  conventional  word 
'flower/  as  used  in  this  connection,  for  my  knight  is 
growing  as  strongly  and  steadily  as  a  young  oak.  I 
hope  I  may  live  to  see  the  man  he  will  eventually 
become." 

"  You  know  well,  auntie,"  said  Laura,  "  that  I  have 
not  meant  half  I  have  said.  The  men  of  our  day  are 
certainly  equal  to  the  women,  and  I  shall  not  have 
to  look  far  to  find  my  superior  in  all  respects.  I 
must  admit,  however,  that  your  words  have  piqued 
my  curiosity,  and  I  am  rather  glad  you  have  not 
named  this  '  heart  of  oak/  for  the  effort  to  discover 
him  will  form  a  pleasant  little  excitement." 

"Were  I  that  way  inclined/'  said  Mrs.  Arnot, 
smiling,  "I  would  be  willing  to  wager  a  good  deal 
that  you  will  hit  upon  the  wrong  man." 

Laura  became  for  a  time  quite  a  close  student  of 
human  nature,  observing  narrowly  the  physiognomy, 
and.  weighing  the  words  and  manner,  of  her  young 


478    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINE  TEE  NTH  CENTUR  V. 

gentleman  acquaintances  ;  but  while  she  found  much 
to  respect,  and  even  to  admire,  in  some,  she  was  not 
sure  that  any  one  of  them  answered  to  her  aunt's 
description.  Nor  could  she  obtain  any  farther  light 
by  inquiring  somewhat  into  their  antecedents.  As 
for  Mrs.  Arnot,  she  was  considerably  amused,  but 
continued  perfectly  non-committal. 

After  Laura  had  quite  looked  through  her  acquaint 
ances  Haldane  made  one  of  his  infrequent  calls,  but 
as  Mr.  Beaumont  was  also  present  she  gave  to  her 
quondam  lover  scarcely  more  than  a  kindly  word  of 
greeting,  and  then  forgot  his  existence.  It  did  not 
occur  to  her,  any  more  than  it  would  to  Haldane  him. 
self,  that  he  was  the  knight. 

Mr.  Arnot,  partly  out  of  a  grim  humor  peculiarly 
his  own,  and  partly  to  extenuate  his  severity  toward 
the  youth,  had  sent  to  his  niece  all  the  city  papers 
containing  unfavorable  references  to  Haldane,  and  to 
her  mind  the  associations  created  by  those  disgrace 
ful  scenes  were  still  inseparable  from  him.  She  hon 
estly  respected  him  for  his  resolute  effort  to  reform, 
as  she  would  express  it,  and  as  a  sincere  Christian 
girl  she  wished  him  the  very  best  of  success,  but  this 
seemed  as  far  as  her  regard  for  him  could  ever  go. 
She  treated  him  kindly  where  most  others  in  her 
station  would  not  recognize  him  at  all,  but  such  was 
the  delicacy  and  refinement  of  her  nature  that  she 
shrank  from  one  who  had  been  capable  of  acts  like 
his.  The  youth  who  had  annoyed  her  with  his  pas 
sion,  whom  she  had  seen  fall  upon  the  floor  in  gross 
intoxication,  who  had  been  dragged  through  the 


LAURA  CHOOSES  HER  KNIGHT.  479 

streets  as  a  criminal,  and  who  twice  had  been  in  jail, 
was  still  a  vivid  memory.  She  knew  comparatively 
little  about,  and  did  not  understand,  the  man  of  to 
day.  Beyond  the  general  facts  that  he  was  doing 
well  and  doing  good,  it  was  evident  that,  by  reason 
of  old  and  disagreeable  associations,  she  did  not  wish 
to  hear  much  about  him,  and  Mrs.  Arnot  had  the 
wisdom  to  see  that  time  and  the  young  man's  own 
actions  would  do  more  to  remove  prejudice  from  the 
mind  of  her  niece,  as  well  as  from  the  memory  of 
society  in  general,  than  could  any  words  of  hers. 

Of  course,  such  a  girl  as  Laura  had  many  admirers, 
and  among  them  Mr.  Beaumont  was  evidently  win 
ning  the  first  place  in  her  esteem.  Whether  he  were 
the  knight  that  her  aunt  had  in  mind  or  no,  she  was 
not  sure,  but  he  realized  her  ideal  more  completely 
than  any  man  whom  she  had  ever  met.  He  did,  in 
deed,  seem  the  "  perfect  flower  of  his  age,"  although 
she  was  not  so  sure  of  the  oak-like  qualities.  She 
often  asked  herself  wherein  she  could  find  fault  with 
him  or  with  all  that  related  to  him,  and  even  her  deli 
cate  discrimination  could  scarcely  find  a  vulnerable  *" 
point.  He  was  fine-looking,  his  heavy  side-whiskers 
redeeming  his  face  from  effeminacy  ;  he  was  tall  and 
elegant  in  his  proportions  ;  his  taste  in  his  dress  was 
quiet  and  faultless  ;  he  possessed  the  most  refined 
and  highly-cultured  mind  of  any  man  whom  she  had 
known  ;  his  family  was  exceedingly  proud  and  aristo 
cratic,  but  as  far  as  there  can  be  reason  for  these 
characteristics,  this  old  and  wealthy  family  had  such 
reason.  Laura  certainly  could  not  find  fault  with 


480    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

these  traits,  for  from  the  first  Mr.  Beaumont's  par 
ents  had  sought  to  pay  her  especial  attention.  It 
was  quite  evident  that  they  thought  that  the  or 
phaned  girl  who  was  so  richly  dowered  with  wealth 
and  beauty  might  make  as  good  a  wife  for  their 
matchless  son  as  could  be  found,  and  such  an  opin 
ion  on  their  part  was,  indeed,  a  high  compliment  to 
Laura's  birth  and  breeding.  No  one  else  in  Hillaton 
would  have  been  thought  of  with  any  equanimity. 

The  son  was  inclined  to  take  the  same  view  as 
that  entertained  by  his  parents,  but,  as  the  party  most 
nearly  interested,  he  felt  it  incumbent  upon  him  to 
scrutinize  very  closely  and  deliberately  the  woman 
who  might  become  his  wife,  and  surely  this  was  a 
sensible  thing  to  do. 

There  was  nothing  mercenary  or  coarse  in  his 
delicate  analysis  and  close  observation.  Far  from  it. 
Mr.  Beaumont  was  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  look 
a  lady  over  as  he  would  a  bale  of  merchandise.  More 
than  all  things  else,  Mr.  Beaumont  was  a  connoisseur, 
and  he  sought  Mrs.  Arnot's  parlors  with  increasing 
frequency  because  he  believed  that  he  would  there 
find  the  woman  best  fitted  to  become  the  chief  orna 
ment  of  the  stately  family  mansion. 

Laura  had  soon  become  conscious  of  this  close 
tentative  scrutiny,  and  at  first  she  had  been  inclined 
to  resent-  its  cool  deliberateness.  But,  remembering 
that  a  man  certainly  has  a  right  to  learn  well  the 
character  of  the  woman  whom  he  may  ask  to  be  his 
wife,  she  felt  that  there  was  nothing  in  his  action  of 
which  she  could  complain  ;  and  it  soon  became  a 
matter  of  pride  with  her,  as  much  as  any  thing  else,  to 


LAURA   CHOOSES  HER  KNIGHT.  481 

satisfy  those  fastidious  eyes  that  hitherto  had  critic 
ally  looked  the  world  over,  and  in  vain,  for  a  pearl 
with  a  luster  sufficiently  clear.  She  began  to  study 
his  taste,  to  dress  for  him,  to  sing  for  him,  to  read  his 
favorite  authors  ;  and  so  perfect  was  his  taste  that 
she  found  herself  aided  and  enriched  by  it.  He  was 
her  superior  in  these  matters,  for  he  had  made  them 
his  life-study.  The  first  hour  that  she  spent  with 
him  in  a  picture-gallery  was  long  remembered,  for 
never  before  had  those  fine  and  artistic  marks  which 
make  a  painting  great  been  so  clearly  pointed  out  to 
her.  She  was  brought  to  believe  that  this  man  could 
lead  her  to  the  highest  point  of  culture  to  which  she 
could  attain,  and  satisfy  every  refined  taste  that  she 
possessed.  It  seemed  as  if  he  could  make  life  one 
long  gallery  of  beautiful  objects,  through  which  she 
might  stroll  in  elegant  leisure,  ever  conscious  that  he 
who  stood  by  to  minister  and  explain  was  looking 
away  from  all  things  else  in  admiration  of  herself. 

The  prospect  was  too  alluring.  Laura  was  not  an 
advanced  female,  with  a  mission  ;  she  was  simply  a 
young  and  lovely  woman,  capable  of  the  noblest  ac 
tion  and  feeling  should  the  occasion  demand  them,  but 
naturally  luxurious  and  beauty-loving  in  her  tastes, 
and  inclined  to  shun  the  prosaic  side  of  life. 

She  made  Beaumont  feel  that  she  also  was  critical 
and  exacting.  She  had  lived  too  long  under  Mrs. 
Arnot's  influence  to  be  satisfied  with  a  man  who 
merely  lived  for  the  pleasure  he  could  get  out  of  each 
successive  day.  He  saw  that  she  demanded  that  he 
should  have  a  purpose  and  aim  in  life,  and  he  skillfully 
met  this  requirement  by  frequently  descanting  on  es 
thetic  culture  as  the  great  lever  which  could  move  the 

21 


482    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTUR  Y. 

world,  and  by  suggesting  that  the  great  question  of 
his  future  was  how  he  could  best  bring  this  culture 
to  the  people.  As  a  Christian,  she  took  issue  with 
him  as  to  its  being  the  great  lever,  but  was  enthusi 
astic  over  it  as  a  most  powerful  means  of  elevating 
the  masses,  and  she  often  found  herself  dreaming 
over  how  much  a  man  gifted  with  Mr.  Beaumont's 
exquisite  taste  and  large  wealth  could  do  by  placing 
within  the  reach  of  the  multitude  objects  of  elevating 
art  and  beauty. 

By  a  fine  instinct  she  felt,  rather  than  saw,  that 
Mrs.  Arnot  did  not  specially  like  the  seemingly  fault 
less  man,  and  was  led  to  believe  that  her  aunt's  ideal 
knight  was  to  be  found  among  some  of  the  heartier 
young  men  who  were  bent  on  doing  good  in  the  old- 
fashioned  ways  ;  and,  with  a  tendency  not  unnatural 
in  one  so  young  and  romantic,  she  thought  of  her 
aunt  as  being  a  bit  old-fashioned  and  prosaic  herself. 
In  her  youthful  and  ardent  imagination  Beaumont 
came 'to  fill  more  and  more  definitely  her  ideal  of  the 
modern  knight — a  man  who  summed  up  within  him 
self  the  perfect  culture  of  his  age,  and  who  was  pro 
posing  to  diffuse  that  culture  as  widely  as  possible. 

"  You  do  not  admire  Mr.  Beaumont,"  said  Laura  a 
little  abruptly  to  her  aunt  one  day. 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Laura ;  I  do  admire  him  very 
much." 

"  Well,  you  do  not  like  him,  then,  to  speak  more 
correctly ;  he  takes  no  hold  upon  your  sympathies." 

"There  is  some  truth  in  your  last  remark,  I  must 
admit.  For  some  reason  he  does  not.  Perhaps  it  is 


LA  URA  CHOOSES  HER  KNIGHT.  483 

my  fault,  and  I  have  sometimes  asked  myself,  Is  Mr. 
Beaumont  capable  of  strong  affection  or  self-sacrific 
ing  action  ?  has  he  much  heart  ?  " 

"I  think  you  do  him  injustice  in  these  respects," 
said  Laura  warmly. 

"  Quite  probably,"  replied  Mrs.  Arnot,  adding  with 
a  mischievous  smile,  which  brought  the  rich  color  to 
her  niece's  cheeks,  "  Perhaps  you  are  in  a  better  po 
sition  to  judge  of  his  possession  of  these  qualities  than 
I  am.  Thus  far  he  has  only  given  me  the  opportuni 
ty  of  echoing  society's  verdict — He  is  a  perfect  gen 
tleman.  I  wish  he  were  a  better  Christian,"  she  con 
cluded  gravely. 

"  I  think  he  is  a  Christian,  auntie." 

"  Yes,  dear,  in  a  certain  esthetic  sense.  But  far 
be  it  from  me  to  judge  him.  Like  the  rest  of  the 
world,  I  respect  him  as  an  honorable  gentleman." 

A  few  days  after  this  conversation  Mr.  Beaumont 
drove  a  pair  of  coal-black  horses  to  Mrs.  Arnot' s  door, 
and  invited  Laura  to  take  a  drive.  When,  in  the 
twilight,  she  returned,  she  went  straight  to  her  aunt's 
private  parlor,  and,  curling  down  at  her  knees,  as  was 
her  custom  when  a  child,  said, 

"  Give  me  your  blessing,  auntie  ;  your  congratula 
tions,  also — I  hope,  although  I  am  not  so  sure  of  these. 
I  have  found  my  knight,  though  probably  not  yours. 
See  !  "  and  she  held  up  her  finger,  with  a  great  flash 
ing  diamond  upon  it. 

Mrs.  Arnot  took  the  girl  in  her  arms  and  said,  "  I 
do  bless  you,  my  child,  and  I  think  I  can  congratulate 
you  also.  On  every  principle  of  worldly  prudence 


484    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTUR  Y. 

and  worldly  foresight  I  am  sure  I  can.  It  will  be 
very  hard  ever  to  give  you  up  to  another ;  and  yet 
I  am  growing  old,  and  I  am  glad  that  you,  who  are 
such  a  sacred  charge  to  me,  have  chosen  one  who 
stands  so  high  in  the  estimation  of  all,  and  who  is  so 
abundantly  able  to  gratify  your  tastes." 

"Yes,  auntie,  I  think  I  am  fortunate,"  said  Laura, 
with  complacent  emphasis.  "  I  have  found  a  man  not 
only  able  to  gratify  all  my  tastes — and  you  know  that 
many  of  them  are  rather  expensive — but  he  himself 
satisfies  my  most  critical  taste,  and  even  fills  out  the 
ideal  of  my  fancy." 

Mrs.  Arnot  gave  a  sudden  sigh. 

"  Now,  auntie,  what,  in  the  name  of  wonder,  can 
that  foreboding  sigh  mean  ? " 

"  You  have  not  said  that  he  satisfied  your  heart." 

"  O  I  think  he  does  fully,"  said  Laura,  hastily, 
though  with  a  faint  misgiving.  "  These  tender  feel 
ings  will  come  in  their  own  good  time.  We  have 
not  got  far  enough  along  for  them  yet.  Besides,  I 
never  could  have  endured  a  passionate  lover.  I  was 
cured  of  any  such  tastes  long  ago,  you  remember," 
she  added,  with  a  faint  laugh. 

"Poor  Egbert!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Arnot,  with  such 
sad  emphasis  that  Laura  looked  up  into  her  face  in 
quiringly  as  she  asked, 

"  You  don't  think  he  will  care  much,  do  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  Laura ;  you  know  he  will  care,  perhaps 
more  deeply  than  I  do  ;  but  I  believe  that  he  will 
wish  you  happiness  as  truly  and  honestly  as  my 
self." 


LA  URA   CHOOSES  HER  KNIGHT.  485 

"  O,  auntie !  how  can  it  be  that  he  wiH  care  as 
much  as  yourself?" 

"  Is  it  possible,  Laura,  that  you  have  failed  to  de 
tect  his  regard  for  you  in  all  these  months  ?  I  de 
tected  it  at  a  glance,  and  felt  sure  that  you  had 
also." 

"  So  I  did,  auntie,  long  since,  but  I  supposed  it 
was,  as  you  say,  a  mere  regard  that  did  not  trouble 
him  much.  I  should  be  sorry  to  think  that  it  was 
otherwise." 

"  At  all  events,  it  has  not  troubled  you  much,  what 
ever  it  may  have  cost  him.  You  hardly  do  Haldane 
justice.  Your  allusion  to  his  former  passion  should 
remind  you  that  he  still  possesses  the  same  ardent 
and  impetuous  nature,  but  it  is  under  control.  You 
cannot  return  his  deep,  yet  unobtrusive,  love,  and,  as 
the  world  is  constituted,  it  is  probably  well  for  you 
that  this  is  true ;  but  I  cannot  bear  that  it  should 
have  no  better  reward  than  your  last  rather  con 
temptuous  allusion." 

"  Forgive  me,  auntie  ;  I  did  not  imagine  that  he 
felt  as  you  seem  to  think.  Indeed,  in  my  happiness 
and  preoccupation,  I  have  scarcely  thought  of  him  at 
all.  His  love  has,  in  truth,  been  unobtrusive.  So 
scrupulously  has  he  kept  it  from  my  notice  that  I 
had  thought  and  hoped  that  it  had  but  little  place  in 
his  mind.  But  if  you  are  right,  I  am  very,  very 
sorry.  Why  is  the  waste  of  these  precious  heart- 
treasures  permitted  ? "  and  gathering  tears  attested 
her  sincerity. 

"  That  is  an  old,  old  question,  which  the  world  has 


486    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTUR  Y. 

never  answered.  The  scientists  tell  us  that  by  a  law 
of  nature  no  force  is  ever  lost.  If  this  be  true  in  the 
physical  world,  it  certainly  should  be  in  the  spiritual. 
I  also  believe  that  an  honest,  unselfish  love  can  en 
rich  the  heart  that  gives  it,  even  though  it  receives  no 
other  reward.  But  you  have  no  occasion  to  blame  your 
self,  Laura.  It  is  one  of  those  things  which  never 
could  have  been  helped.  Besides,  Haldane  is  serv 
ing  a  Master  who  is  pledged  to  shape  seeming  evils 
for  his  good.  I  had  no  thought  of  speaking  of  him 
at  all,  only  your  remark  seemed  so  like  injustice  that 
I  could  not  be  silent.  In  the  future,  moreover,  you 
may  do  something  for  him.  Society  is  too  unre 
lenting,  and  does  not  sufficiently  recognize  the  strug 
gle  he  has  made,  and  is  yet  making ;  and  he  is  so 
morbidly  sensitive  that  he  will  not  take  any  thing 
that  evtn  looks  like  social  alms.  You  will  be  in  a 
position  to  help  him  toward  the  recognition  which 
he  deserves,  for  I  should  be  sorry  to  see  him  become 
a  lonely  and  isolated  man.  Of  course,  you  will  have 
to  do  this  very  carefully,  but  your  own  graceful  ta£t 
will  best  guide  you  in  this  matter.  I  only  wish  you 
to  appreciate  the  brave  fight  he  is  making  and  the 
character  he  is  forming,  and  not  to  think  of  him 
merely  as  a  commonplace,  well-meaning  man,  who 
is  at  last  trying  to  do  right,  and  who  will  be  fairly 
content  with  life  if  he 'can  secure  his  bread  and 
butter." 

"  I  will  remember  what  you  say,  and  do  my  very 
best,"  said  Laura  earnestly,  "  for  I  do  sincerely  re 
spect  Mr.  Haldane  for  his  efforts  to  retrieve  the  past, 


LAURA  CHOOSES  HER  KNIGHT.  487 

and  I  should  despise  myself  did  I  not  appreciate  the 
delicate  consideration  he  has  shown  for  me  if  he  has 
such  feelings  as  you  suppose.  Auntie ! "  she  ex 
claimed  after  a  moment,  a  sudden  light  breaking  in 
upon  her,  "Mr.  Haldane  is  your  knight." 

"And  a  very  plain,  prosaic  knight,  no  doubt,  he 
seems  to  you." 

"  I  confess  that  he  does,  and  yet  when  I  think  of 
it  I  admit  that  he  has  fought  his  way  up  against  tre 
mendous  odds.  Indeed,  his  present  position  in  con 
trast  with  what  he  was  involves  so  much  hard  fight 
ing  that  I  can  only  think  of  him  as  one  of  those  plain, 
rugged  men  who  have  risen  from  the  ranks." 

"  Look  for  the  plain  and  rugged  characteristics 
when  he  next  calls/'  said  Mrs.  Arnot  quietly.  "  One 
would  have  supposed  that  such  a  rugged  nature 
would  have  interposed  some  of  his  angles  in  your 
way." 

"  Forgive  me,  auntie  ;  I  am  inclined  to  think  that 
I  know  very  little  about  your  knight ;  but  it  is 
natural  that  I  should  much  prefer  my  own.  Your 
knight  is  like  one  of  those  remorseful  men  of  the 
olden  time  who,  partly  from  faith  and  partly  in  pen 
ance  for  past  misdeeds,  dons  a  suit  of  plain  heavy  iron 
armor,  and  goes  away  to  parts  unknown  to  fight  the 
infidel.  My  knight  is  clad  in  shining  steel  ;  nor  is 
the  steel  less  true  because  overlaid  with  a  filagree  of 
gold  ;  and  he  will  make  the  world  better  not  by 
striking  rude  and  ponderous  blows,  but  by  teaching 
it  something  of  his  own  fair  courtesy  and  his  own 
rich  culture." 


488  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Your  description  of  Haldane  is  very  fanciful  and 
a  little  far-fetched,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  laughing ; 
"should  I  reply  in  like  vein  I  would  only  add  that  I 
believe  that  he  will  henceforth  keep  the  '  white 
cross  '  on  his  knightly  mantle  unstained.  Already 
he  seems  to  have  won  a  place  in  that  ancient  and 
honorable  order  established  so  many  centuries  ago, 
the  members  of  which  were  entitled  to  inscribe  upon 
their  shields  the  legend, '  He  that  ruleth  his  own  spirit 
is  better  than  he  that  taketh  a  city.'  But  we  are  carry 
ing  this  fanciful  imagery  too  far,  and  had  better  drop 
it  altogether.  I  know  that  you  will  do  for  Haldane 
all  that  womanly  delicacy  permits,  and  that  is  all  I 
wish.  Mr.  Beaumont's  course  toward  you  commands 
my  entire  respect.  Pie  long  since  asked  both  your 
uncle's  and  my  own  consent  to  pay  you  his  addresses, 
and  while  we,  of  course,  gave  our  approval,  we  have 
left  you  wholly  free  to  follow  the  promptings  of  your 
own  heart.  In  the  world's  estimation,  Laura,  it  will 
be  a  brilliant  alliance  for  each  party  ;  but  my  prayer 
shall  be  that  it  may  be  a  happy  and  sympathetic 
union,  and  that  you  may  find  an  unfailing  and  in 
creasing  content  in  each  other's  society.  Nothing 
can  compensate  for  the  absence  of  a  warm,  kind 
heart,  and  the  nature  that  is  without  it  is  like  a  home 
without  a  hearth-stone  and  a  fire  ;  the  larger  and 
more  stately  it  is,  the  colder  and  more  cheerless  it 
seems." 

Laura  understood  her  aunt's  allusion  to  her  own 
bitter  disappointment,  and  she  almost  shivered  at  the 
possibility  of  meeting  a  like  experience. 


MRS.  ARNOT'S  KNIGHT.  489 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

MRS.     ARNOT'S     KNIGHT. 

IT  will  not  be  supposed  that  Haldane  was  either 
blind  or  indifferent  during  the  long  months  in 
which  Beaumont,  like  a  skillful  engineer,  was  mak 
ing  his  regular  approaches  to  the  fair  lady  whom  he 
would  win.  He  early  foresaw  what  appeared  to  him 
would  be  the  inevitable  result,  and  yet,  in  spite  of  all 
his  fortitude,  and  the  frequency  with  which  he  as 
sured  himself  that  it  was  natural,  that  it  was  best, 
that  it  was  right,  that  this  peerless  woman  should 
wed  a  man  of  Beaumont's  position  and  culture,  still 
that  gentleman's  assured  deliberate  advance  was  like 
the  slow  and  torturing  contraction  of  the  walls  of  that 
terrible  chamber  in  the  Inquisition  which,  by  an  im 
perceptible  movement,  closed  in  upon  and  crushed 
the  prisoner.  For  a  time  he  felt  that  he  could  not 
endure  the  pain,  and  he  grew  haggard  under  it. 

"What's  a  matter,  my  boy?"  said  Mr.  Growther 
abruptly  to  him  one  evening  ;  "  you  look  as  if  some 
thing  was  a-gnawin'  and  a-eatin'  your  very  heart 
out." 

He  satisfied  his  old  friend  by  saying  that  he  did 
not  feel  well,  and  surely  one  sick  at  heart  as  he  was 

might  justly  say  this. 
21* 


49o  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Mr.  Growther  immediately  suggested  as  remedies 
all  the  drugs  he  had  ever  heard  of,  and  even  volun 
teered  to  go  after  them ;  but  Haldane  said  with  a 
smile, 

"  I  would  not  survive  if  I  took  a  tenth  part  of  the 
medicines  you  have  named,  and  not  one  of  them 
would  do  me  any  good.  I  think  I'll  take  a  walk  in 
stead." 

Mr.  Growther  thought  a  few  moments,  and  mut 
tered  to  himself,  "  What  a  cussed  old  fool  I've  been 
to  think  that  rhubob  and  jallup  could  touch  his  case ! 
He's  got  something  on  his  mind,"  and  with  a  com 
mendable  delicacy  he  forbore  to  question  and  pry. 

Gradually,  however,  Haldane  obtained  patience 
and  then  strength  to  meet  what  seemed  inevitable, 
and  to  go  forward  with  the  strong,  measured  tread  of 
a  resolute  soldier. 

While  passing  through  his  lonely  and  bitter  con 
flict  he  learned  the  value  and  significance  of  that  an 
cient  prophecy,  "  He  is  despised  and  rejected  of 
men;  a  man  of  sorrows  and  acquainted  with  grief; 
and  we  hid,  as  it  were,  our  faces  from  him."  How 
long,  long  ago  God  planned  and  purposed  to  win  the 
sympathy  and  confidence  of  the  suffering  by  coming 
so  close  to  them  in  like  experience  that  they  could 
feel  sure — yes,  know — that  he  felt  with  them  and  for 
them. 

Never  before  had  the  young  man  so  fully  realized 
how  vital  a  privilege  it  was  to  be  a  disciple  of  Christ — 
to  be  near  to  him — and  enjoy  what  resembled  a  com 
panionship  akin  to  that  possessed  by  those  who  fol- 


MRS.  ARNOT'S  KNIGHT.  49! 

lowed  him  up  and  down  the  rugged  paths  of  Judea 
and  Galilee. 

When,  at  last,  Laura's  engagement  became  a  recog 
nized  fact,  he  received  the  intelligence  as  quietly  as 
the  soldier  who  is  ordered  to  take  and  hold  a  posi 
tion  that  will  long  try  his  fortitude  and  courage  to 
the  utmost. 

As  for  Laura,  the  weeks  that  followed  her  engage 
ment  were  like  a  beautiful  dream,  but  one  that  was 
created  largely  by  the  springing  hopes  and  buoyancy 
of  youth,  and  the  witchery  of  her  own  vivid  imagina 
tion.  The  spring-time  had  come  again,  and  the 
beauty  and  promise  of  her  own  future  seemed  re 
flected  in  nature.  Every  day  she  took  long  drives 
into  the  country  with  her  lover,  or  made  expeditions 
to  picture  galleries  in  New  York ;  again,  they  would 
visit  public  parks  or  beautiful  private  grounds  in 
which  the  landscape  gardener  had  lavished  his  art. 
She  lived  and  fairly  reveled  in  a  world  of  beauty,  and 
for  the  time  it  intoxicated  her  with  delight. 

There  was  also  such  a  chorus  of  congratulation 
that  she  could  not  help  feeling  complacent.  Society 
indorsed  her  choice  so  emphatically  and  universally 
that  she  was  sure  she  had  made  no  mistake.  She  was 
caused  to  feel  that  she  had  carried  off  the  richest 
prize  ever  known  in  Hillaton,  and  she  was  sufficiently 
human  to  be  elated  over  the  fact. 

Nor  was  the  congratulation  all  on  one  side.  So 
ciety  was  quite  as  positive  that  Beaumont  had  been 
equally  fortunate,  and  there  were  some  that  insisted 
that  he  had  gained  the  richer  prize.  It  was  known 


49  2    K NIG  PIT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

that  Laura  had  considerable  property  in  her  own 
name,  and  it  was  the  general  belief  that  she  would 
eventually  become  heiress  of  a  large  part  of  the  colos 
sal  fortune  supposed  to  be  in  the  possession  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Arnot.  In  respect  to  character,  beauty,  ac 
complishments — in  brief,  the  minor  considerations 
in  the  world's  estimation,  it  was.  admitted  by  all  that 
Laura  had  few  superiors.  Mr.  Beaumont's  parents 
were  lavish  in  the  manifestations  of  their  pleasure 
and  approval.  And  thus  it  would  seem  that  these  two 
lives  were  fitly  joined  by  the  affinity  of  kindred  tastes 
by  the  congenial  habits  of  equal  rank,  and  by  uni 
versal  acclamation. 

Gradually,  however,  the  glamour  thrown  around 
her  new  relationship  by  its  very  novelty,  by  unnum 
bered  congratulations,  and  the  excitement  attendant 
on  so  momentous  a  step  in  a  young  lady's  life,  began 
to  pass  away.  Every  fine  drive  in  the  country  sur 
rounding  the  city  had  been  taken  again  and  again  ; 
all  the  fine  galleries  had  been  visited,  and  the  finer 
pictures  admired  and  dwelt  upon  in  Mr.  Beaumont's 
refined  and  quiet  tones,  until  there  was  little  more  to 
be  said.  Laura  had  come  to  know  exactly  why  her 
favorite  paintings  were  beautiful,  and  precisely  the 
marks  which  gave  them  value.  The  pictures  re 
mained  just  as  beautiful,  but  she  became  rather  tired 
of  hearing  Mr.  Beaumont  analyze  them.  Not  that 
she  could  find  any  fault  with  what  he  said,  but  it 
was  the  same  thing  over  and  over  again.  She  be 
came,  slowly  and  unpleasantly,  impressed  with  the 
thought  that,  while  Mr.  Beaumont  would  probably 


MKS.  A  RNO  T '  S  KNIGHT.  493 

take  the  most  correct  view  of  every  object  that  met 
his  eye,  he  would  always  take  the  same  view,  and, 
having  once  heard  him  give  an  opinion,  she  could  an 
ticipate  on  all  future  occasions  just  what  he  would 
say.  We  all  know,  by  disagreeable  experience,  that 
no  man  is  so  wearisome  as  he  who  repeats  himself 
over  and  over  again  without  variation,  no  matter 
how  approved  his  first  utterance  may  have  been. 
Beaumont  was  remarkably  gifted  with  the  power  of 
forming  a  correct  judgment  of  the  technical  work 
of  others  in  all  departments  of  art  and  literature,  and 
to  the  perfecting  of  this  accurate  esthetic  taste  he 
had  given  the  energies  of  his  maturer  years.  He  had 
carefully  scrutinized  in  every  land  all  that  the  best 
judges  considered  pre-eminently  great  and  beautiful, 
but  his  critical  powers  were  those  of  an  expert,  a 
connoisseur,  only.  .  His  mind  had  no  freshness  or 
originality.  He  had  very  little  imagination.  Laura's 
spirit  would  kindle  before  a  beautiful  painting  until 
her  eyes  suffused  with  tears.  He  would  observe 
coolly,  with  an  eye  that  measured  and  compared 
every  thing  with  the  received  canons  of  art,  and  if 
the  drawing  and  coloring  were  correct  he  was  simply 
— satisfied.  <,  » 

Again,  he  had  a  habit  of  forgetting  that  he  had 
given  his  artistic  views  upon  a  subject  but  a  brief 
time  before,  and  would  repeat  them  .almost  word  for 
word,  and  often  his  polished  sentences  and  quiet 
monotone  were  as  wearisome  as  a  thrice-told  tale. 

As  time  wore  on  the  disagreeable  thought  began 
to  suggest  itself  to  Laura  that  the  man  himself  had 


494   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

culminated  ;  that  he  was  perfected  to  the  limit  of  his 
nature,  and  finished  off.  She  foresaw  with  dread 
that  she  might  reach  a  point  before  very  long  when 
she  would  know  all  that  he  knew,  or,  at  least,  all  that 
he  kept  in  his  mind,  and  that  thereafter  every  thing 
would  be  endless  repetition  to  the  end  of  life.  He 
dressed  very  much  the  same  every  day ;  his  habits 
were  very  uniform  and  methodical.  In  the  world's 
estimation  he  was,  indeed,  a  bright  luminary,  and  he 
certainly  resembled  the  heavenly  bodies  in  the  fol 
lowing  respects.  Laura  was  learning  that  she  could 
calculate  his  orbit  to  a  nicety,  and  know  beforehand 
what  he  would  do  and  say  in  given  conditions. 
When  she  came  to  know  him  better  she  might  be 
able  to  trace  the  unwelcome  resemblance  -still  fur 
ther,  in  the  fact  that  he  did  not  seem  to  be  progress 
ing  toward  any  thing,  but  was  going  round  and  round 
in  an  habitual  circle  of  thought  and  action,  with  him 
self  as  the  center  of  his  universe. 

Laura  resisted  the  first  and  infrequent  coming  of 
these  thoughts,  as  if  they  were  suggestions  of  the  evil 
one ;  but,  in  spite  of  all  effort,  all  self-reproach,  they 
would  return.  Sometimes  as  little  a  thing  as  an  ele- 
g£nt  pose — so  perfect,  indeed,  as  to  suggest  that  it 
had  been  studied  and  learned  by  heart  years  ago — 
would  occasion  them,  and  the  happy  girl  began  to  sigh 
over  a  faint  foreboding  of  trouble. 

By  no  word  or  thought  did  she  ever  show  him 
what  was  passing  in  her  mind,  and  she  would  have 
to  show  such  thoughts  plainly  before  he  would  even 
dream  of  their  existence,  for  no  man  ever  more  thor- 


MRS.  A  KNOT'S  KNIGHT. 


495 


oughly  believed  in  himself  than  did  Auguste  Beau 
mont.  He  was  satisfied  he  had  learned  the  best  and 
most  approved  way  of  doing  every  thing,  and  as  his 
action  was  always  the  same,  it  was,  therefore,  always 
right.  Moreover,  Laura  eventually  divined,  while 
calling  with  him  on  his  parents,  that  the  greatest  her 
esy  and  most  aggravated  offense  that  any  one  could 
be  guilty  of  in  the  Beaumont  mansion  would  be  to 
find  fault  with  Auguste.  It  would  be  a  crime  for 
which  neither  reason  nor  palliation  could  be  found. 

Thus  the  prismatic  hues  which  had  surrounded 
this  man  began  to  fade,  and  Laura,  who  had  hoped 
to  escape  the  prose  of  life,  was  reluctantly  compelled 
to  admit  to  herself  at  times  that  she  found  her  lover 
tiresomely  prosy  and  "  splendidly  null." 

In  the  meantime  Haldane  had  finished  the  studies 
of  his  second  year  at  the  medical  college,  and  had 
won  the  respect  of  his  instructors  by  his  careful  at 
tention  to  the  lectures,  and  by  a  certain  conscientious, 
painstaking  manner,  rather  than  by  the  display  of 
any  striking  or  brilliant  qualities. 

One  July  evening,  before  taking  his  summer  vaca 
tion,  he  called  on  Mrs.  Arnot.  The  sky  in  the  west 
was  so  threatening,  and  the  storm  came  on  so  rapid 
ly,  that  Mr.  Beaumont  did  not  venture  down  to  the 
city,  and  Laura,  partly  to  fill  a  vacant  hour,  and  part 
ly  to  discover  wherein  the  man  of  to-day,  of  whom  her 
aunt  could  speak  in  such  high  terms,  differed  from 
the  youth  that  she,  even  as  an  immature  girl,  despised, 
determined  to  give  Haldane  a  little  close  observa 
tion.  When  he  entered  she  was  at  the  piano,  prac- 


496    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTUR  Y. 

ticing  a  very  difficult  and  intricate  piece  of  music 
that  Beaumont  had  recently  brought  to  her,  and  he 
"said, 

"  Please  do  not  cease  playing.  Music,  which  is  a 
part  of  your  daily  fare,  is  to  me  a  rarely  tasted  lux 
ury,  for  you  know  that  in  Hillaton  there  are  but  few 
public  concerts  even  in  winter." 

She  gave  him  a  glance  of  genuine  sympathy,  as 
she  remembered  that  only  at  a  public  concert  where 
he  could  pay  his  way  to  an  unobtrusive  seat  could 
he  find  opportunity  to  enjoy  that  which  was  a  part 
of  her  daily  life.  In  no  parlor  save  her  aunt's  could 
he  enjoy  such  refining  pleasures,  and  for  a  reason 
that  she  knew  well  he  had  rarely  availed  himself  of 
the  privilege.  Then  another  thought  followed  swift 
ly  :  "  Surely  a  man  so  isolated  and  cut  off  from  these 
esthetic  influences  which  Mr.  Beaumont  regards  as 
absolutely  essential,  must  have  become  uncouth  and 
angular  in  his  development."  The  wish  to  discover 
how  far  this  was  true  gave  to  her  observation  an  in 
creasing  zest.  She  generously  resolved,  however,  to 
give  him  as  rich  a  musical  banquet  as  it  was  in 
her  power  to  furnish,  if  his  eye  and  manner  asked 
for  it. 

"Please  continue  what  you  were  playing,"  he 
added,  "  it  piques  my  curiosity." 

As  the  musical  intricacy  which  gave  the  rich  but 
tangled  fancies  of  a  master-mind  proceeded,  his  brow 
knit  in  perplexity,  and  at  its  close  he  shook  his  head 
and  remarked, 

"That  is  beyond  me.     Now  and  then  I  seemed 


MRS.  ARNOT'S  KNIGHT.  497 

to  catch  glimpses  of  meaning,  and   then  all  was  ob 
scure  again." 

"  It  is  beyond  me,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot  with  a  laugh. 
"Come,  Laura,  give  us  something  simple.  I  have 
heard  severely  classical  and  intricate  music  so  long 
that  I  am  ready  to  welcome  even  "  Auld  lang  syne." 

"  I  also  will  enjoy  a  change  to  something  old  and 
simple,"  said  Laura,  and  her  fingers  glided  into  a 
selection  which  Haldane  instantly  recognized  as 
Steibelt's  Storm  Rondo. 

As  Laura  glanced  at  him  she  saw  his  deepening 
color,  and  then  it  suddenly  flashed  upon  her  when  she 
had  first  played  that  music  for  him,  and  her  own  face 
flushed  with  annoyance  at  her  forgetfulness.  After 
playing  it  partly  through  she  turned  to  her  music- 
stand  in  search  of  something  else,  but  Haldane  said, 
.  "  Please  finish  the  rondo,  Miss  Romeyn  ;"  adding, 
with  a  frank  laugh,  "  You  have,  no  doubt,  forgotten 
it ;  but  you  once,  by  means  of  this  music,  gave  me 
one  of  the  most  deserved  and  wholesome  lessons  I 
ever  received." 

"  Your  generous  acknowledgment  of  a  fancied 
mistake  at  that  time  should  have  kept  me  from  blun 
ders  this  evening,"  she  replied  in  a  pained  tone. 

With  a  steady  glance  that  held  her  eyes  he  said 
very  quietly,  and  almost  gently, 

"  You  have  made  no  blunder,  Miss  Romeyn.  I  do 
not  ignore  the  past,  nor  do  I  wish  it  to  be  ignored 
with  painstaking  care.  I  am  simply  trying  to  face  it 
and  overcome  it  as  I  might  an  enemy.  I  may  be 
wrong,  for  you  know  I  have  had  little  chance  to  be- 


498    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY'. 

come  versed  in  the  ways  of  good  society ;  but  it  ap 
pears  to  me  that  it  would  be  better  even  for  those 
who  are  to  spend  but  a  social  hour  together  that  they 
should  be  free  from  the  constraint  which  must  exist 
when  there  is  a  constant  effort  to  shun  delicate  or 
dangerous  ground.  Please  finish  the  rondo  ;  and 
also  please  remember  that  the  ice  is  not  thin  here 
and  there,"  he  added  with  a  smile. 

Laura  caught  her  aunt's  glance,  and  the  significant 
lighting  up  of  her  face,  and,  with  an  answering  smile, 
she  said, 

"If  you  will  permit  me  to  change  the  figure,  I  will 
suggest  that  you  have  broken  the  ice  so  completely 
that  I  shall  take  you  at  your  word,  and  play  and  sing 
just  what  you  wish  ;"  and,  bent  upon  giving  the  young 
man  all  the  pleasure  she  could,  she  exerted  her  pow 
ers  to  the  utmost  in  widely  varied  selections  ;  and 
while  she  saw  that  his  technical  knowledge'was  lim 
ited,  it  was  clearly  evident  that  he  possessed  a  nature 
singularly  responsive  to  musical  thoughts  and  effects  ; 
indeed,  she  found  a  peculiar  pleasure  and  incentive 
in  glancing  at  his  face  from  time  to  time,  for  she  saw 
reflected  there  the  varied  characteristics  of  the  melo 
dy.  But  once,  as  she  looked  up  to  see  how  he  liked 
an  old  English  ballad,  she  caught  that  which  instantly 
brought  the  hot  blood  into  her  face. 

Haldane  had  forgotten  himself,  forgotten  that  she 
belonged  to  another,  and,  under  the  spell  of  the  old 
love  song,  had  dropped  his  mask.  She  saw  his  heart 
in  his  gaze  of  deep,  intense  affection  more  plainly 
than  spoken  words  could  have  revealed  it. 


MRS.  ARNOT'S  KNIGHT.  499 

He  started  slightly  as  he  saw  her  conscious  blush, 
turned  pale  instead  of  becoming  red  and  embar 
rassed,  and,  save  a  slight  compression  of  his  lips, 
made  no  other  movement.  She  sang  the  concluding 
verse  of  the  ballad  in  a  rather  unsympathetic  man 
ner,  and,  after  a  light  instrumental  piece  devoid  of 
sentiment,  rose  from  the  piano. 

Haldane  thanked  her  with  frank  heartiness,  and 
then  added  in  a  playful  manner  that,  although  the 
concert  was  over,  he  was  weather-bound  on  account 
of  the  shower,  and  would  therefore  try  to  compen 
sate  them  for  giving  him  shelter  by  relating  a  curi 
ous  story  which  was  not  only  founded  on  fact,  but  all 
fact ;  and  he  soon  had  both  of  his  auditors  deeply  in 
terested  in  one  of  those  strange  and  varied  experi 
ences  which  occasionally  occur  in  real  life,  and  which 
he  had  learned  through  his  mission  class.  The  tale 
was  so  full  of  lights  and  shadows  that  now  it  pro 
voked  to  laughter,  and  again  almost  moved  the  list 
eners  to  tears.  While  the  narrator  made  as  little 
reference  to  himself  as  possible,  he  unconsciously 
and  of  necessity  .revealed  how  practically  and  vitally 
useful  he  was  to  the  class  among  whom  he  was  work 
ing.  Partly  to  draw  him  out,  and  partly  to  learn 
more  about  certain  characters  in  whom  she  had  be 
come  interested,  Mrs.  Arriot  asked  after  one  and  an 
other  of  Haldane's  "difficult  cases."  As  his  replies 
suggested  inevitably  something  of  their  dark  and  re 
volting  history,  Laura  again  forget  herself  so  far  as 
to  exclaim, 

"  How  can  you  work  among  such  people  ? " 


5oo    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTUR  Y. 

After  the  words  were  spoken  she  was  ready  to 
wish  that  she  had  bitten  her  tongue  out. 

"  Christ  worked  among  them,"  replied  he  gravely, 
and  then  he  added,  with  a  look  of  grateful  affection 
toward  Mrs.  Arnot,  "  Besides,  your  aunt  has  taught 
me  by  a  happy  experience  that  there  are  some  possi 
bilities  of  a  change  for  the  better  in  'such  people.'  " 

"  Mr.  Haldane,"  said  Laura  impetuously,  and  with  a 
burning  flush,  "  I  sincerely  beg  your  pardon.  As 
you  were  speaking  you  seemed  so  like  my  aunt  in 
refinement  and  character  that  you  banished  every 
other  association  from  my  mind." 

His  face  lighted  up  with  a  strong  expression  of 
pleasure,  and  he  said, 

"  I  am  glad  that  those  words  are  so  heartily  uttered, 
and  that  there  is  no  premeditation  in  them  ;  for  if  in 
the  faintest  and  farthest  degree  I  can  even  resemble 
Mrs.  Arnot,  I  shall  feel  that  I  am  indeed  making 
progress." 

"  I  shall  say  what  is  in  my  mind  without  any  con 
straint  whatever,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot.  "Years  ago, 
Egbert,  when  once  visiting  you  in. prison,  to  which 
you  had  been  sent  very  justly,  I  said  in  effect,  that 
in  rising  above  yourself  and  your  circumstances,  you 
would  realize  my  ideal  of  knighthood.  You  cannot 
know  with  what  deep  pleasure  I  tell  you  to-night 
that  you  are  realizing  this  ideal  even  beyond  my 
hopes." 

"  Mrs.  Arnot,"  replied  Haldane,  in  a  tone  that 
trembled  slightly,  "  I  was  justly  sent  to  that  prison, 
and  to-night,  no  doubt,  I  should  have  been  in  some 


MRS.  A  KNOT'S  KNIGHT. 


501 


other  prison-house  cf  human  justice — quite  possibly," 
he  added,  in  a  low,  shuddering  tone,  "  in  the  prison- 
house  of  God's  justice — if  you  had  not  come  like  an 
angel  of  mercy  —  if  you  had  not  borne  with  me, 
taught  me,  restrained  me,  helped  me  with  a  patience 
closely  akin  to  Heaven's  own.  It  is  the  hope  and 
prayer  of  my  life  that  I  may  some  day  prove  how  I 
appreciate  all  that  you  have  done  for  me.  But,  see  ; 
the  storm  is  over,  as  all  storms  will  be  in  time. 
Good  night,  and  good-bye,"  and  he  lifted  her  hand  to 
his  lips  in  a  manner  that  was  at  once  so  full  of  hom 
age  and  gratitude,  and  also  the  grace  of  natural  and 
unstudied  action,  that  there  came  a  rush  of  tears  into 
the  lady's  eyes. 

Laura  held  out  her  hand  and  said,  "  Mr.  Haldane, 
you  cannot  respect  me  more  than  you  have  taught 
me  to  respect  you." 

He  shook  his  head  at  these  words,  involuntarily 
intimating  that  she  did  'not  know,  and  never  could 
but  departed  without  trusting  himself  to  reply. 

The  ladies  sat  quite  a  long  time  in  silence.  At 
length  Laura  remarked  with  a  sigh, 

"  Mr.  Haidane  .is  mistaken.  The  ice  is  thin  here 
and  there,  but  I  had  no  idea  that  there  were  such 
depths  beneath  it." 

Mrs.  Arnot  did  not  reply  at  once,  and  when  she 
did  perhaps  she  had  in  mind  other  experiences  than 
those  of  her  young  friend,  for  she  only  said  in  a  low 
musing  tone, 

"Yes,  he  is  right.  All  storms  will  be  over  in 
time." 


502    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

A  KNIGHTLY   DEED. 

THE  year  previous  Haldane  had  buried  himself 
among  the  mountains  of  Maine,  but  he  re 
solved  to  spend  much  of  the  present  summer  in  the 
city  of  New  York,  studying  such  works  of  art  as 
were  within  his  reach,  haunting  the  cool,  quiet  libra 
ries,  and  visiting  the  hospitals,  giving  to  the  last,  as 
a  medical  student,  the  most  of  his  time.  He  found 
himself  more  lonely  and  isolated  among  the  number 
less  strange  faces  than  he  had  been  in  the  northern 
forests.  He  also  went  to  his  native  city  for  the  pur 
pose  of  visiting  Dr.  Marks,  and  as  the  family  man 
sion  was  closed,  took  a  room  at  the  hotel.  His  old 
acquaintances  stood  far  aloof  at  first,  but  when  Dr. 
Marks  carried  him  off  with  friendly  violence  to  the 
parsonage,  and  kept  him  there  as  a  welcome  guest, 
those  who  had  known  him  or  his  family  concluded 
that  they  could  shake  hands  with  him,  and  many 
took  pains  to  do  so,  and  to  congratulate  him  on  the 
course  he  was  taking.  Dr.  Marks-  parsonage  was 
emphatically  the  Interpreter's  house  to  him,  and 
after  a  brief  visit  he  returned  to  New  York  more  en 
couraged  with  the  hope  that  he  would  eventually 
retrieve  the  past  than  ever  he  had  been  before. 
But  events  now  occurred  which  promised  to  speed- 


A   KNIGHTLY  DEED.  503 

ily  blot  out  all  possibility  of  an  earthly  future.  In 
answer  to  his  letter  describing  his  visit  to  Dr.  Marks, 
he  received  from  Mrs.  Arnot  a  brief  note,  saying 
that  the  warm  weather  had  affected  her  very  unfa 
vorably,  and  that  she  was  quite  ill  and  had  been 
losing  strength  for  some  weeks.  On  this  ground  he 
must  pardon  her  brief  reply.  Her  closing  word? 
were,  "  Persevere,  Egbert.  In  a  few  years  more  the 
best  homes  in  the  land  will  be  open  to  you,  and 
you  can  choose  your  society  from  those  who  are 
honorable  here  and  will  be  honored  herafter." 

There  were  marks  of  feebleness  in  the  handwrit 
ing,  and  Haldane's  anxiety  was  so  strongly  aroused 
in  behalf  of  his  friend  that  he  returned  to  Hillaton 
at  once,  hoping,  however,  that  since  the  heats  of 
August  were  nearly  over,  the  bracing  breath  of  au 
tumn  would  bring  renewed  strength. 

After  being  announced  he  was  shown  directly  up 
to  Mrs.  Arnot's  private  parlor,  and  he  found  himself 
where,  years  before,  he  had  first  met  his  friend.  The 
memory  of  the  bright,  vivacious  lady  who  had  then 
entertained  him  with  a  delicate  little  lunch,  while 
she  suggested  how  he  might  make  his  earliest  ven 
ture  out  into  the  world  successful,  flashed  into  his 
mind,  with  thronging  thoughts  of  all  that  had  since 
occurred ;  but  now  he  was  pained  to  see  that  his 
friend  reclined  feebly  on  her  lounge,  and  held  out 
her  hand  without  rising. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come,"  she  said  with  quiet 
emphasis,  "  for  your  sympathy  will  be  welcome,  al 
though,  like  others,  you  can  do  nothing  for  us  in 
our  trouble." 


504     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Mrs.  Arnot,"  he  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of  deep 
distress,  "  you  are  not  seriously  ill  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied,  "  that  is  not  it.  I'm  better,  or 
will  be  soon,  I  think.  Laura,  dear,  light  the  gas, 
please,  and  Egbert  can  read  the  telegrams  for  him 
self.  You  once  met  my  sister,  Mrs.  Poland,  who 
resides  in  the  South,  I  think." 

"Yes,  I  remember  her  very  well.  There  was 
something  about  her  face  that  haunted  me  for 
months  afterward." 

"  Amy  was  once  very  beautiful,  but  ill-health  has 
greatly  changed  her." 

In  the  dusk  of  the  evening  Haldane  had  not  seen 
Laura  and  Mr.  Beaumont,  as  he  entered,  and  he  now 
greeted  them  with  a  quiet  bow;  but  Laura  came  and 
gave  him  her  hand,  saying, 

"  We  did  not  expect  you  to  return  so  soon,  Mr. 
Hahiane." 

"After  hearing  that  Mrs.  Arnot  was  ill  I  could 
not  rest  till  I  had  seen  her,  and  I  only  received  her 
note  this  morning." 

He  now  saw  that  both  Laura's  eyes  and  Mrs. 
Arnot's  were  red  with  weeping. 

The  latter,  in  answer  to  his  questioning,  troubled 
face  ;  said :  "The  yellow  fever  has  broken  out  in  the 
city  where  my  sister  resides.  Her  husband,  Mr. 
Poland,  has  very  important  business  interests  there, 
which  he  could  not  drop  instantly.  She  would  not 
leave  him,  and  Amy,  her  daughter,  would  not  leave 
her  mother.  Indeed,  before  they  were  aware  of 
their  danger  the  disease  had  become  epidemic,  and 
Mr.  Poland  was  stricken  down.  The  first  telegram  is 


A   KNIGHTLY  DEED.  505 

from  my  sister,  and  states  this  fact ;  the  second  there 
is  from  my  niece,  and  it  breaks  my  heart  to  read  it," 
and  she  handed  it  to  him  and  he  read  as  follows : 

"  The  worst  has  happened.  Father  very  low. 
Doctor  gives  little  hope.  I  almost  fear  for  mother's 
mind.  The  city  in  panic — our  help  leaving — medical 
attendance  uncertain.  It  looks  as  if  I  should  be  left 
alone,  and  I  helpless.  What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"  Was  there  ever  a  more  pathetic  cry  of  distress  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Arnot,  with  another  burst  of  grief.  "  Oh 
that  I  were  strong  and  well,  and  I  would  fly  to  them 
at  once." 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  do  any  good  by  going?" 
asked  Laura,  stepping  forward  eagerly,  but  very 
pale. 

"  No,"  interposed  Mr.  Beaumont,  with  sharp  em 
phasis  ;  "  you  would  only  become  an  additional 
burden,  and  add  to  the  horrors  of  the  situation." 

"  Mr.  Beaumont  is  right ;  but  you  are  a  noble 
woman  even  to  think  of  such  a  thing,"  said  Hal- 
dane,  and  he  gave  her  a  look  of  such  strong  feeling 
and  admiration,  that  a  little  color  came  into  her 
white  cheeks. 

"  She  does  not  realize  what  she  is  saying,"  added 
Mr.  Beaumont.  "  It  would  be  certain  death  for  an 
unacclimated  Northener  to  go  down  there  now." 

Laura  grew  very  pale  again.  She  had  realized 
what  she  was  saying,  and  was  capable  of  the  sacri 
fice  ;  but  the  man  who  had  recognized  and  appre 
ciated  her  heroism  was  not  the  one  who  held  her 
plighted  troth. 

Paying  no  heed  to  Beaumont's  last  remark,  Hal- 

22 


5c6    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

dane  snatched  up  the  daily  paper  that  lay  upon 
the  table,  and  turned  hastily  to  a  certain  place  for 
a  moment,  then,  looking  at  his  watch,  exclaimed 
eagerly : 

"I  can  do  it  if  not  a  moment  is  wasted.  The 
express  train  for  the  South  leaves  in  an  hour,  and  it 
connects  with  all  the  through  lines.  Miss  Romeyn, 
please  write  for  me,  on  your  card,  an  introduction  to 
your  cousin,  Miss  Poland,  and  I  will  present  it,  with 
the  offer  of  my  assistance,  at  the  earliest  possible 
moment." 

''Egbert,  no!"  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  with  strong  em- ¥ 
phasis,  and  rising  from  her  couch,  though  so  ill  and 
feeble.     "  I  will  not  permit  you  to  sacrifice  your  life 
for  comparative  strangers." 

He  turned  and  took  her  hand  in  both  of  his,  and 
said, 

"Mrs.  Arnot,  there  is  no  time  for  remonstrance, 
and  it  is  useless.  I  am  going,  and  no  one  shall  pre 
vent  me."  Then  he  added,  in  tones  and  with  a  look 
of  affection  which  she  never  forgot,  "  Deeply  as  I 
regret  this  sad  emergency,  I  would  not,  for  ten  times 
the  value  of  my  life,  lose  the  opportunity  it  gives 
me.  I  can  now  show  you  a  small  part  of  my  grati 
tude  by  serving  those  you  love.  Besides,  as  you  say, 
that  telegram  is  such  a  pathetic  cry  of  distress  that, 
were  you  all  strangers,  I  would  obey  its  unconscious 
command.  But  haste,  the  card!" 

"  Egbert,  you  are  excited  ;  you  do  not  realize 
what  you  are  saying ! "  cried  the  agitated  lady. 

He  looked  at  her  steadily  for  a  moment,  and  then 
said,  in  a  tone  so  quiet  and  firm  that  it  ended  all 


A   KNIGHTLY  DEED.  507 

remonstrance,  "  I  realize  fully  what  I  am  doing,  and 
it  is  my  right  to  decide  upon  my  own  action.  To 
you,  at  least,  I  never  broke  my  word,  and  I  assure 
you  that  I  will  go.  Miss  Romeyn,  will  you  oblige 
me  by  instantly  writing  that  card?  Your  aunt  is  not 
able  to  write  it." 

His  manner  was  so  authoritative  that  Laura  wrote 
with  a  trembling  hand  : 

The  bearer  is  a  very  dear  friend  of  aunt's.  How  brave  and  noble 
a  man  he  is  you  can  learn  from  the  fact  that  he  comes  to  your  aid 
now.  In  deepest  sympathy  and  love, 

LAURA. 

"Good-by,  my  dear,  kind  friend,"  said  Haldane 
cheerily  to  Mrs.  Arnot  while  Laura  was  writing; 
"  you  overrate  the  danger.  I  feel  that  I  shall  return 
again,  and  if  I  do  not,  there  are  many  worse  evils 
than  dying." 

"  Your  mother,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  with  a  low  sob. 

"  I  shall  write  to  her  a  long  letter  on  the  way  and 
explain  everything." 

"  She  will  feel  that  it  never  can  be  explained." 

"  I  cannot  help  it,"  replied  the  young  man  reso 
lutely;  <;  I  know  that  I  am  doing  right,  or  my  con 
science  is  of  no  use  to  me  whatever." 

Mrs.  Arnot  put  her  arms  around  his  neck  as  if  she 
were  his  mother,  and  said  in  low,  broken  tones : 

"  God  bless  you,  and  go  with  you,  my  true  knight ; 
nay,  let  me  call  you  my  own  dear  son  this  once.  I 
will  thank  you  in  heaven  for  all  this,  if  not  here," 
and  then  she  kissed  him  again  and  again. 

"  You  have  now  repaid  me  a  thousand-fold/'  he 
faltered,  and  then  broke  away. 


5o8     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Mr.  Haldane,"  said  Laura  tearfully,  as  he  turned 
to  her,  "  Cousin  Amy  and  I  have  been  the  closest 
friends  from  childhood,  and  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
deeply  I  appreciate  your  going  to  her  aid.  I  could 
not  expect  a  brother  to  take  such  a  risk." 

Haldane  felt  that  his  present  chance  to  look  into 
Laura's  face  might  be  his  last,  and  again,  before  he 
was  aware,  he  let  his  eyes  reveal  all  his  heart.  She 
saw  as  if  written  in  them,  "  A  brother  might  not  be 
willing  to  take  the  risk,  but  I  am." 

"  Do  I  then  render  you  a  special  service?  "he 
asked,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  You  could  not  render  me  a  greater  one." 

"  Why,  this  is  better  than  I  thought,"  he  said. 
"How  fortunate  I  was  in  coming  this  evening! 
There,  please  do  not  look  so  distressed  A  soldier 
takes  such  risks  as  these  every  day,  and  never  thinks 
of  them.  You  have  before  you  a  happy  life,  Miss 
Laura,  and  I  am  very,  very  glad.  Good  courage, 
and  good-by,"and  his  manner  now  was  frank,  cheer 
ful,  and  brotherly. 

She  partly  obeyed  an  impulse  to  speak,  but  checked 
it,  and  tremblingly  bent  her  head  ;  but  the  pressure 
she  gave  his  hand.meant  more  than  he  or  even  she 
herself  understood  at  the  time. 

"  Good-by,  Mr.  Beaumont,"  he  said,  hurriedly. 
"  I  need  not  wish  you  happiness,  since  you  already 
possess  it ;  "  and  he  hastened  from  the  room  and  the 
house  without  once  looking  back. 

A  moment  later  they  heard  his  rapid  resolute  tread 
echoing  from  the  stony  pavement,  but  it  speedily 
died  away. 


A   KNIGHTLY  DEED.  509 

Laura  listened  breathlessly  at  the  window  until 
the  faintest  sound  ceased.  She  had  had  her  wish. 
She  had  seen  a  man  who  was  good  enough  and 
brave  enough  to  face  any  danger  to  which  he  felt 
impelled  by  a  chivalric  sense  of  duty.  She  had  seen 
a  man  depart  upon  as  knightly  an  expedition  as  any 
of  which  she  had  ever  read,  but  it  was  not  her 
knight. 

"  This  young  Haldane  is  a  brave  fellow,  and  I 
had  no  idea  that  there  was  so  much  of  him,"  re 
marked  Mr.  Beaumont  in  his  quiet  and  refined  tones. 
"  Really,  take  it  all  together,  this  has  been  a  scene 
worthy  of  the  brush  of  a  great  painter." 

"  O  Auguste  !  "  exclaimed  Laura;  "  how  can  you 
look  only  on  the  esthetic  side  of  such  a  scene?" 
And  she  threw  herself  into  a  low  chair  and  sobbed 
as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

Mr.  Beaumont  was  much  perplexed,  for  he  found 
that  all  of  his  elegant  platitudes  were  powerless 
to  either  comfort  or  soothe  her. 

"  Leave  her  with  me,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot.  "  The 
excitements  of  the  day  have  been  too  much  for  her. 
She  will  be  better  to-morrow." 

Mr.  Beaumont  was  glad  to  obey.  He  had  been 
accustomed  from  childhood  to  leave  all  disagreeable 
duties  to  others,  and  he  thought  that  Laura  had  be 
come  a  trifle  hysterical.  "  A  little  lavender  and 
sleep  is  all  that  she  requires,"  he  remarked  to  him 
self  as  he  walked  home  in  the  starlight.  "  But,  by 
Jove!  she  is  more  lovely  in  tears  than  in  smiles." 

That  he,  Auguste  Beaumont,  should  risk  the  loss 
of  her  and  all  his  other  possessions  by  exposing  his 


510    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

precious  person  to  a  loathsome  disease  did  not  enter 
his  mind. 

"  O,  auntie,  auntie,  I  would  rather  have  gone  my 
self  and  died,  than  feel  as  I  do  to-night,"  sobbed 
Laura. 

"  *  Courage '  was  Egbert's  last  word  to  you,  Laura," 
said  Mrs.  Arnot,  "  and  courage  and  faith  must  be 
our  watchwords  now.  We  must  act,  too,  and  at 
once.  Please  tell  your  uncle  I  wish  a  draft  for  five 
hundred  dollars  immediately,  and'  explain  why. 
Then  inclose  it  in  a  note  to  Egbert,  and  see  that 
Michael  puts  it  in  his  hands  at  the  depot.  Write  to 
Egbert  not  to  spare  money  where  it  may  be  of  any 
use,  or  can  secure  any  comfort.  We  cannot  tell 
how  your  aunt  Amy  is  situated,  and  money  is 
always  useful.  We  must  telegraph  to  your  cousin 
Amy  that  a  friend  is  coming.  Let  us  realize  what 
courage,  prayer,  and  faith  can  accomplish.  Action 
will  do  you  good,  Laura." 

The  girl  sprang  to  her  feet  and  carried  out  her 
aunt's  wishes  with  precision.  That  was  the  kind  of 
"  lavender  "  which  her  nature  required. 

After  writing  all  that  her  aunt  dictated,  she  added 
on  her  own  part : 

If  the  knowledge  that  I  honor  you  above  other  men  can  sustain 
you,  rest  assured  that  this  is  true  ;  if  my  sympathy  and  constant  re 
membrance  can  lighten  your  burdens,  know  that  you  and  those  you 
serve  will  rarely  be  absent  from  my  thoughts.  You  make  light  of 
your  heroic  act.  To  me  it  is  a  revelation.  I  did  not  know  thar  men 
could  be  so  strong  and  noble  in  our  day.  Whether  such  words  are 
right  or  conventional,  I  have  not  even  thought.  My  heart  is  full  and 
1  must  speak  them.  That  God  may  bless  you,  aid  you  in  serving 
those  I  love  so  dearly,  and  return  you  in  safety,  will  be  my  constant 
prayer. 


A  KNIGHTLY  DEED.  .         511 

Auntie   falters   out  one   more  message,  "Tell  Egbert  that  sister 
Amy's  household  have  not  our  faith  ;  suggest  it,  teach  it  if  you  can  !  " 

Farewell,  truest  of  friends. 

LAURA  ROMEYN. 

Mr.  Growther  was  asleep  in  his  chair  when  Hal- 
dane  entered,  and  he  stole  by  him  and  made  prepa 
rations  for  departure  with  silent  celerity.  Xhen, 
valise  in  hand,  he  touched  his  old  friend,  who  started 
up,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Lord  a*  massy,  where  did  you  come  from,  and 
where  yer  goin'  ?  You  look  kinder  sperit  like.  I 
say,  am  I  awake  ?  I  was  dreamin*  you  was  startin* 
off  to  kill  somebody." 

r,!r,f<  Dreams  go  by  contraries.  It  may  be  a  long 
time  before  we  meet  again.  But  we  shall  have  many 
a  good  talk  over  old  times,  if  not  here,  why,  in  the 
better  home,  for  your  '  peaked-faced  little  chap  '  will 
surely  lead  you  there,"  and  he  explained  all  in  a  few 
brief  sentences.  "  And  now,  my  kind,  true  friend, 
good-by.  I  thank  you  from  my  heart  for  the  shelter 
you  have  given  me,  and  for  your  stanch  friendship 
when  friends  were  so  few.  You  have  done  all  that 
you  could  to  make  a  man  of  me,  and  now  that  you 
won't  have  time  to  quarrel  with  me  about  it,  I  tell 
you  to  your  face  that  you  are  not  a  mean  man. 
There  are  few  larger-hearted,  larger-souled  men  in 
this  city,"  and  before  the  bewildered  old  gentleman 
could  reply,  he  was  gone. 

"  Lord  a'  massy,  Lord  a'  massy,"  groaned  Mr. 
Growther,  "  the  bottom  is  jest  fallin'  out  o'  every 
thing.  If  he  dies  with  the  yellow-jack  I'll  git  to 
cussin'  as  bad  as  ever." 

Haldane  found  Mrs.  Arnot's  coachman  at  the  de- 


512     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

pot  with  the  letter  Laura  had  written.  As  he  read 
it  his  face  flushed  with  the  deepest  pleasure.  Hav 
ing  a  few  moments  to  spare,  he  penciled  hastily : 

"  Miss  ROMEYN  : — I  have  received  from  Michael  the  letter  with  the 
draft.  Say  to  Mrs.  Arnot  I  shall  obey  both  the  letter  and  spirit  of 
her  instructions.  '  Let  me  add  for  myself  that  my  best  hopes  are 
more  than  fulfilled.  That  you,  who  know  all  my  past,  could  write 
such  words  seems  like  a  heavenly  dream.  But  I  assure  you  that  you 
overestimate  both  the  character  of  my  action  and  the  danger.  It  is 
all  plain,  simple  duty,  which  hundreds  of  men  would  perform  as  a 
matter  of  course.  I  ask  but  one  favor,  please  look  after  Mr.  Grow- 
ther.  He  is  growing  old  and  feeble  ;  I  owe  him  so  much — Mrs.  Ar 
not  will  tell  you.  Yours " 

"  He  couldn't  write  a  word  more,  Miss,  the  train 
was  a  movin'  when  he  jumped  on,"  said  Michael 
when  he  delivered  the  note. 

But  that  final  word  had  for  Laura  no  conventional 
meaning.  She  had  long  known  that.Haldane  was, 
in  truth,  hers,  and  she  had  deeply  regretted  the 
fact,  and  would  at  any  time  have  willingly  broken 
the  chain  that  bound  him,  had  it  been  in  her  power. 
Would  she  break  it  to-night  ?  Yes,  unhesitatingly ; 
but  it  would  now  cost  her  a  pain  to  do  so,  which,  at 
first,  she  would  not  understand.  On  that  stormy 
July  evening  when  she  gave  Haldane  a  little  private 
concert  she  had  obtained  a  glimpse  of  a  manhood 
unknown  to  her  before,  and  it  was  full  of  pleasing 
suggestion.  To-night  that  same  manhood  which  is 
at  once  so  strong,  and  yet  so  unselfish  and  gentle, 
had  stood  out  before  her  distinct  and  luminous  in 
the  light  of  a  knightly  deed,  and  she  saw  with  the 
absoluteness  of  irresistible  conviction  that  such  a 
manhood  was  above  and  beyond  all  surface  polish, 


A   KNIGHTLY  DEED. 


513 


all  mere  esthetic  culture,  all  earthly  ranK — that  it 
was  something  that  belonged  to  God,  and  partook 
of  the  eternity  of  his  greatness  and  permanence. 

By  the  kindred  and  noble  possibilities  of  her  own 
womanly  nature,  she  was  of  necessity  deeply  inter 
ested  in  such  a  man  having  once  recognized  him  ; 
and  now  for  weeks  she  must  think  of  him  as  con 
sciously  serving  "her  in  the  most  knightly  way  and 
at  the  hourly  risk  of  his  life,  and  yet  hoping  for  no 
greater  reward  than  her  esteem  and  respect.  While 
she  knew  that  he  would  have  gone  eagerly  for  her 
aunt's  sake,  and  might  have  gone  from  a  mere  sense 
of  duty,  she  had  been  clearly  shown  that  the  thought 
of  serving  her  had  turned  his  dangerous  task  into  a 
privilege  and  a  joy.  Could  she  follow  such  a  man 
daily  and  hourly  with  her  thoughts,  could  she  in 
vivid  imagination  watch  his  self-sacrificing  efforts  to. 
minister  to,  and  save  those  she  loved,  with  only  the 
cool,  decorous  interest  that  Mr.  Beaumont  would 
deem  proper  in  the  woman  betrothed  to  himself? 
The  future  must  answer  this  question. 

When  Haldane  had  asked  for  a  ticket  to  the 
southern  city  to  which  he  was  destined,  the  agent 
stared  at  him  a  moment  and  said  : 

"  Don't  you  know  yellow  fever  is  epidemic  there  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Haldane  with  such  cold  reserve  of 
manner  that  no  further  questions  were  asked ;  but 
the  fact  that  he,  a  medical  student,  had  bought  a 
ticket  for  the  plague-stricken  city  was  stated  in  the 
Courier  the  following  morning.  His  old  friend  Mr. 
Ivison  soon  informed  himself  of  the  whole  affair, 

and  in  a  glowing  letter  of  eulogy  made  it  impossible 
22* 


514     KNIGHT  OF   THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

for  any  one  to  charge  that  Mrs.  Arnot  had  asked  the 
young  man  to  go  to  the  aid  of  her  relatives  at  such 
tremendous  personal  risk.  Indeed  it  was  clearly 
stated,  with  the  -unimpeachable  Mr.  Beaumont  as 
authority,  that  she  had  entreated  him  not  to  go,  and 
had  not  the  slightest  expectation  of  his  going  until 
he  surprised  her  by  his  unalterable  decision. 

After  reading  and  talking  over  this  letter,  sus 
tained  as  it  had  been  by  years  of  straightforward 
duty,  even  good  society  concluded  that  it  could 
socially  recognize  and  receive  this  man  ;  and  yet,  as 
the  old  lady  had  remarked,  there  was  still  an  excel 
lent  prospect  that  he  would  enter  heaven  before  he 
found  a  welcome  to  the  exclusive  circles  of  Hillaton. 


O  DREADED  DEATH! 


515 


CHAPTER   L. 

" O  DREADED  DEATH ! " 

HALDANE  found  time  in  the  enforced  pauses 
of  his  journey  to  write  a  long  and  affectionate 
letter  to  his  mother,  explaining  all,  and  asking  her 
forgiveness  again,  as  he  often  had  before.  He  also 
wrote  to  Mrs.  Arnot  a  cheerful  note,  in  which  he 
tried  to  put  his  course  in  the  most  ordinary  and  mat 
ter-of-fact  light  possible,  saying  that  as  a  medical 
student  it  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world 
for  him  to  do. 

As  he  approached  the  infected  city  he  had  the 
train  chiefly  to  himself,  and  he  saw  that  the  outgo 
ing  trains  were  full,  and  when  at  last  he  walked  its 
streets  it  reminded  him  of  a  household  of  which 
some  member  is  very  ill,  or  dead,  and  the  few  who 
were  moving  about  walked  as  if  under  a  sad  con 
straint  and  gloom.  On  most  faces  were  seen  evi 
dences  of  anxiety  and  trouble,  while  a  few  were 
reckless. 

Having  obtained  a  carriage,  he  was  driven  to  Mr. 
Poland's  residence  in  a  suburb.  He  dismissed  the 
carriage  at  the  gate,  preferring  to  quietly  announce 
himself.  The  sultry  day  was  drawing  to  a  close  as 
he  walked  up  the  graveled  drive  that  led  to  the 


516     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

house.  Not  even  the  faintest  zephyr  stirred  the  lux 
uriant  tropical  foliage  that  here  and  there  shadowed 
his  path,  and  yet  the  stillness  and  quiet  of  nature 
did  not  suggest  peace  and  repose  so  much  as  it  did 
death.  The  motionless  air,  heavily  laden  with  a 
certain  dead  sweetness  of  flowers  from  the  neighbor 
ing  garden,  might  well  bring  to  mind  the  breathless 
silence  and  the  heavy  atmosphere  of  the  chamber  in 
which  the  lifeless  form  and  the  fading  funeral  wreath 
are  perishing  together. 

So  oppressed  was  Haldane  he  found  himself  walk 
ing  softly  and  mounting  the  steps  of  the  piazza  with 
a  silent  tread,  as  if  he  were  in  truth  approaching  the 
majesty  of  death.  Before  he  could  ring  the  bell 
there  came  from  the  parlor  a  low,  sad  prelude,  played 
on  a  small  reed  organ  that  had  been  built  in  the 
room,  and  then  a  contralto  voice  of  peculiar  sweet 
ness  sang  the  following  words  with  such  depth  of 
feeling  that  one  felt  that  they  revealed  the  innermost 
emotion  of  the  heart : 

O  priceless  life  !  warm,  throbbing  life, 
With  thought  and  love  and  passion  rife, 

I  cling  to  thee. 

Thou  art  an  isle  in  the  ocean  wide  ; 
Thou  art  a  barque  above  the  tide  ; 
How  vague  and  void  is  all  beside  ! 

I  cling  to  thee. 

O  dreaded  death  !  cold,  pallid  death, 
Despair  is  in  thy  icy  breath  ; 

I  shrink  from  thee. 
What  victims  wilt  thou  next  enroll  ? 
Thou  hast  a  terror  for  my  soul 
Which  will  nor  reason  can  control ; 

I  shrink  from  thee, 


0  DREADED  DEATH!  517 

Then  followed  a  sound  that  was  like  a  low  sob. 
This  surely  was  Amy,  Laura's  cousin-friend,  and  al 
ready  she  had  won  the  whole  sympathy  of  his  heart. 

After  ringing  the  bell  he  heard  her  step,  and  then 
she  paused,  as  he  rightly  surmised,  to  wipe  away  the 
thickly-falling  tears.  He  was  almost  startled  when 
she  appeared  before  him,  for  the  maiden  had  inher 
ited  the  peculiar  and  striking  beauty  of  her  mother. 
Sorrow  and  watching  had  brought  unusual  pallor  to 
her  cheeks;  but  her  eyes  were  so  large,  so  dark  and 
intense,  that  they  suggested  spirit  rather  than  flesh 
and  blood. 

"  I  think  that  this  is  Miss  Poland,"  commenced 
Haldane  in  a  manner  that  was  marked  by  both  sym 
pathy  and  respect,  and  he  was  about  to  hand  her 
his  card  of  introduction,  when  she  stepped  eagerly 
forward  and  took  his  hand,  saying:  "  You  are  Mr. 
Haldane.  I  know  it  at  a  glance." 

"  Yes,  and  wholly  at  your  service." 

Still  retaining  his  hand,  she  looked  for  a  second 
into  his  face,  as  if  she  would  read  his  soul  and  gauge 
the  compass  of  his  nature  ;  so  intent  and  penetrating 
was  her  gaze,  that  Haldane  felt  that  if  there  had  been 
any  wavering  or  weakness  on  his  part  she  would 
have  known  it  as  truly  as  himself. 

Her  face  suddenly  lighted  up  with  gratitude  and 
friendliness,  and  she  said,  earnestly: 

"  I  do  thank  you  for^  coming.  I  had  purposed 
asking  y6u  not  to  take  so  great  a  risk  for  us,  but  to 
return;  for,  to  be  frank  with  you,  our  physician  has 
told  me  that  your  risk  is  terribly  great ;  but  I  see 
that  you  are  one  that  would  not  turn  back." 


518     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"You  are  right,  Miss  Poland."  Then  he  added, 
with  a  frank  smile,  "  There  is  nothing  terrible  to  me 
in  the  risk  you  speak  of.  I  honestly  feel  it  a  privi 
lege  to  come  to  your  aid,  and  I  have  but  one  re 
quest  to  make:  that  you  will  let  me  serve  you  in 
any  way  and  every  way  possible.  By  any  hesitancy 
and  undue  delicacy  in  this  respect  you  will  greatly 
pain  me." 

"  Oh  !  "  she  exclaimed  in  a  low  and  almost  passion^ 
ate  tone,  "  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come,  for  I  was 
almost  desperate." 

"Your  father?  "  asked  Haldane  very  gravely. 

"  He  is  more  quiet,  and  I  try  to  think  he  is  better, 
but  doctor  won't  say  that  he  is.  Ah,  there  he  is 
coming  now." 

A  carriage  drove  rapidly  to  the  door,  and  the 
physician  sprang  up  the  steps  as  if  the  hours  were 
short  for  the  increasing  pressure  of  his  work. 

"  Miss  Amy,  why  are  you  here  yet  ?  I  hoped  that 
you  and  your  little  sister  were  on  your  way  to  the 
mountains,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand. 

"  Please  do  not  speak  of  it  again,"  she  replied. 
"  I  cannot  leave  father  and  mother,  and  Bertha,  you 
know,  is  too  young  and  nervous  a  child  to  be  forced 
to  go  away  alone.  We  must  all  remain  together, 
and  hope  the  best  from  your  skill." 

"  God  knows  I'm  doing  all  in  my  power  to  save 
my  dear  old  friend  Poland,"  said  the  physician 
huskily,  and  then  he  shook  his  head  as  if  he  had  lit 
tle  hope.  "  How  is  he  now  ?  " 

"  Better,  I  think.  Dr.  Orton,  this  is  the  friend 
of  whom  I  spoke,  Mr.  Haldane." 


0  DREADED  DEATH! 


519 


"  You  have  always  lived  at  the  North  ?  "  asked 
the  physician,  looking  the  young  man  over  with  a 
quick  glance. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Do  you  realize  the  probable  consequences  of 
this  exposure  to  one  not  acclimated  ?  " 

"  Dr.  Orton,  I  am  a  medical  student,  and  I  have 
come  to  do  my  duty,  which  here  will  be  to  strictly 
carry  out  your  directions.  I  have  only  one  deep 
cause  for  anxiety,  and  that  is  that  I  may  be  taken 
with  the  disease  before  I  can  be  of  much  use.  So 
please  give  me  work  at  once." 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  old  fellow.  You  do  our  pro 
fession*  credit,  if  not  fully  fledged.  You  are  right, 
we  must  all  do  what  we  can  while  we  can,  for  the 
Lord  only  knows  how  many  hours  are  left  to  any  of 
us.  But  Amy,  my  dear,  it  makes  me  feel  like  pray 
ing  and  swearing  in  the  same  breath  to  find  you  still 
in  this  infernal  city.  A  friend  promised  to  call  this 
morning  and  take  you  and  your  sister  away." 

"  We  cannot  go." 

"  Well,  well,  as  long  as  the  old  doctor  is  above 
ground  he  will  try  to  take  care  of  you;  and  this 
young  gentleman  can  be  invaluable  if  he  can  hold 
on  for  a  while  before  following  a  too  general  fashion. 
Come,  sir,  I  will  install  you  as  nurse  at  once." 

"  Doctor,  Doctor  Orton,  what  have  you  brought 
for  me  ?  "  cried  a  childish  voice,  and  a  little  girl, 
fair  and  blue-eyed,  came  fluttering  down  the  stairs,- 
intercepting  them  on  the  way  to  Mr.  Poland's  room. 

"  Ah  !  there's  my  good  little  fairy,"  said  the  kind- 
hearted  man,  taking  her  in  his  arms  and  kissing  her. 


520 


KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


"  Look  in  my  pockets,  little  one,  and  see  what  you 
can  find." 

With  delightful  unconsciousness  of  the  shadows 
around  her  the  child  fumbled  in  his  pockets  and 
soon  pulled  out  a  picture-book. 

"  No  candy  yet  ?  "  she  exclaimed  in  disappointment. 

"  No  candy  at  all,  Bertha,  nothing  but  good  plain 
food  till  next  winter.  You  make  sure  of  this,  I  sup 
pose,"  he  said  significantly  to  the  elder  sister. 

"  Yes,  as  far  as  possible.    I  will  wait  for  you  here." 

They  ascended  to  a  large  airy  room  on  the  second 
floor.  Even  to  Haldane,  Mr.  Poland  appeared  far 
down  in  the  dark  valley;  but  he  was  in  that  quiet 
and  conscious  state  which  follows  the  first  stage  of 
the  fever,  which  in  his  case,  owing  to  his  vigorous 
frame,  had  been  unusually  prolonged. 

Without  a  word  the  doctor  felt  the  sick  man's 
pulse,  who  bent  upon  him  his  questioning  eyes. 
From  the  farther  side  of  the  bed,  Mrs.  Poland,  sit 
ting  feebly  in  her  chair,  also  fixed  upon  the  physician 
the  same  intense  searching  gaze  that  Haldane  had 
sustained  from  the  daughter.  Dr.  Orton  looked  for 
a  moment  into  her  pale,  thin  face,  which  might  have 
been  taken  as  a  model  for  agonized  anxiety,  and  then 
looked  away  again,  for  he  could  not  endure  its  ex 
pression. 

"  Orton,  tell  me  the  truth ;  no  wincing  now,"  said 
Mr.  Poland*  in  low,  thick  utterance. 

"  My  dear  old  friend,  it  cuts  me  to  the  heart  to 
say  it,  but  if  you  have  anything  special  that  you 
would  like  to  say  to  your  family  I  think  you  had 
better  say  it  now." 


0  DREADED  DEATH/  521 

"  Then  I  am  going  to  die,"  said  the  man,  and  both 
his  tone  and  face  were  full  of  awe  ;  while  poor  Mrs. 
Poland  looked  as  if  in  extremis  herself. 

"  This  return  and  rapid  rise  of  fever  at  this  late 
day  looks  very  bad,"  said  the  physician,  gloomily, 
"  and  you  insisted  on  knowing  the  truth." 

"You  ever  were  an  honest  friend,  Orton  ;  I  know 
you  have  done  your  best  for  me,  and,  although 
worked  to  death,  have  come  to  see  me  often.  I 
leave  my  family  in  your  charge.  God  grant  I  may 
be  the  only  one  to  suffer.  May  I  see  the  children  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  few  moments ;  but  I  do  not  wish  them  to 
be  in  this  room  long  ?  " 

"  Don't  go  just  yet,  Orton.  I — to  tell  you  the 
truth,  I  feel  that  dying  is  rather  serious  business, 
and  you  and  I  have  always  taken  life  somewhat  as 
a  good  joke.  Call  the  girls." 

They  came  and  stood  by  their  mother.  Amy  was 
beyond  tears,  but  little  Bertha  could  not  understand 
it,  and  with  difficulty  could  be  kept  from  clamber 
ing  upon  the  bed  to  her  father. 

"  Amy's  naughty,  she  keeps  me  away  from  you, 
papa.  I've  been  wanting  to  see  you  all  day,  and 
Amy  won't  let  me." 

The  doctor  and  Haldane  retired  to  the  hallway. 

There  was  an  unutterable  look  in  the  dying  man's 
eyes  as  he  fixed  them  on  the  little  group. 

"  How  can  I  leave  you  ?  how  can  I  leave  you  ?  " 
he  groaned. 

At  this  the  child  began  to  cry,  and  again  strug 
gled  to  reach  her  father.  She  was  evidently  his 
idol,  and  he  prayed,  .**  Wherever  I  go — whatever 


522     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

becomes  of  me,  God   grant  I  may  see  that   child 
again/' 

"  Mother,"  he  said  (he  always  called  his  wife  by' 
that  endearing  name),  "  I'm  sure  you  are  mistaken. 
I  want  to  see  you  all  again  with  such  intense  long 
ing  that  I  feel  I  shall.  This  life  can't  be  all.  My 
heart  revolts  at  it.  It's  fiendish  cruelty  to  tear 
asunder  forever  those  who  love  as  we  do.  As  I  told 
you  before,  I'm  going  to  take  my  chances  with  the 
publican.  Oh,  that  some  one  could  make  a  prayer ! 
Orton,"  he  called  feebly. 

The  doctor  entered,  leaving  the  door  open. 

"  Couldn't  you  offer  a  short  prayer.  You  may 
think  it  unmanly  in  me,  but  I  am  in  sore  straits,  and 
I  want  to  see  these  loved  ones  again." 

"  Haldane,"  cried  Dr.  Orton,  "  here,  offer  a  prayer, 
for  God's  sake,  if  you  can.  I  feel  as  if  I  were  chok- 
ing." 

Without  any  hesitancy  or  mannerism  the  Christian 
man  knelt  at  Mr.  Poland's  bedside  and  offered  as 
simple  and  natural  a  prayer  as  he  would  have  spoken 
to  the  Divine  Man  in  person  had  he  gone  to  him  in 
Judea,  centuries  ago,  in  behalf  of  a  friend.  His 
faith  was  so  absolute  that  he  that  was  petitioned 
became  a  living  presence  to  those  who  listened. 

"  God  bless  you,  whoever  you  are,"  said  the  sick 
man.  "  Oh,  that  does  me  good.  It's  less  dark.  It 
seems  to  me  that  I've  got  hold  of  a  hand  that  can 
sustain  me." 

"  Bress  de  Lord  !  "  ejaculated  an  old  negress  who 
sat  in  a  distant  corner. 
.    "  I  install  this  young  man  as  your  nurse  to-night," 


0  DREADED   DEATH!  523 

said  Dr.  Orton,  huskily ;  "  I'll  be  here  in"  the  morning. 
Come,  little  girls,  go  now." 

"  We  shall  meet  again,  Amy ;  we  shall  me.et  again, 
Bertie,  darling ;  remember  papa  said  it  and  believed 
it." 

Haldane  saw  a  strange  blending  of  love  and  terror 
in  Amy's  eyes  as  she  led  her  little  and  bewildered 
sister  from  the  room. 

Dr.  Orton  took  him  one  side  and  rapidly  gave  his 
directions.  "  His  pulse,"  he  said,  "  indicates  that  he 
may  be  violent  during  the  night  ;  if  so,  induce  Mrs. 
Poland  to  retire,  if  possible.  I  doubt  if  he  lives  till 
morning."  He  then  told  Haldane  of  such  precau 
tions  as  he  should  take  for  his  own  safety,  and  de 
parted. 

The  horrors  of  that  night  cannot  be  portrayed. 
As  the  fever  rose  higher  and  higher,  all  evidence  of 
the  kind,  loving  husband  and  father  perished,  and 
there  remained  only  a  disease-tortured  body.  The 
awful  black  vomit  soon  set  in.  The  strong  physical 
nature  in  its  dying  throes  taxed  Haldane's  powerful 
strength  to  the  utmost,  and  only  by  constant  effort 
and  main  force  could  he  keep  the  sufferer  in  his  bed. 
Mrs.  Poland  and  the  old  colored  woman  who  assisted 
her  would  have  been  totally  unequal  to  the  occasion. 
Indeed,  the  wife  was  simply  appalled  and  over 
whelmed  with  grief  and  horror,  for  the  poor  man, 
unconscious  of  all  save  pain,  and  in  accordance  with 
a  common  phase  of  the  disease,  filled  the  night  with 
unearthly  cries  and  shrieks.  But  before  the  morning 
dawned,  instead  of  tossing  and  delirium  there  was 
the  calm  serenity  of  death. 


524 


KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


As  Haldane  composed  the  form  for  its  last  sleep, 
he  said : 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Poland,  your  faithful  watch  is 
ended,  your  husband  suffers  no  more ;  now,  surely 
you  will  yield  to  my  entreaty  and  go  to  your  room. 
I  will  see  that  everything  is  properly  attended  to." 

The  poor  woman  was  bending  over  her  husband's 
ashes,  almost  as  motionless  as  they,  and  her  answer 
was  a  low  cry  as  she  fell  across  his  body  in  a  swoon. 

Haldane  lifted  her  gently  up,  and  carried  her  from 
the  room. 

Crouching  at  the  door  of  the  death-chamber,  her 
eyes  dilated  with  horror,  he  found  poor  Amy. 

"  Is  mother  dead  also  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  No,  Miss  Amy.  She  only  needs  your  care  to 
speedily  revive.  Please  lead  the  way  to  your  mo 
ther's  apartment." 

"  I  think  there  is  a  God,  and  that  he  sent  you," 
she  whispered. 

"  You  are  right,"  he  replied,  in  the  natural  hearty 
tone  which  is  so  potent  in  reassuring  the  terror- 
stricken.  "  Courage,  Miss  Amy;  all  will  be  well  at 
last.  Now  let  me  help  you  like  a  brother,  and  when 
your  mother  revives,  I  will  give  her  something  to 
make  her  sleep ;  I  then  wish  you  to  sleep  also." 

The  poor  lady  revived  after  a  time,  and  tried  to 
rise  that  she  might  return  to  her  husband's  room, 
but  fell  back  in  utter  weakness. 

"  Mrs.  Poland,"  said  Haldane  gently,  "  you  can  do 
no  good  there.  You  must  live  for  your  children  now." 

She  soon  was  sleeping  under  the  influence  of  an 
opiate. 


0  DREADED  DEATH! 


525 


"  Will  you  rest,  too,  Miss  Amy  ?  "  asked  Haldane. 

"  I  will  try,"  she  faltered  ;  but  her  large,  dark  eyes 
looked  as  if  they  never  would  close  again. 

Returning  to  the  room  over  which  so  deep  a  hush 
had  fallen,  Haldane  gave  a  few  directions  to  the  old 
negress  whom  he  left  in  charge,  and  then  sought  the 
rest  he  so  greatly  needed  himself. 


526    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

"  O   PRICELESS  LIFE  !  " 

WHEN  Haldane  came  down  the  following 
morning  he  found  Bertha  playing  on  the 
piazza  as  unconscious  of  the  loss  of  her  father  as 
the  birds  singing  among  the  trees  of  their  master. 
Amy  soon  joined  them,  and  Haldane  saw  that  her 
eyes  had  the  same  appealing  and  indescribable  ex 
pression,  both  of  sadness  and  terror,  reminding  one 
of  some  timid  and  beautiful  animal  that  had  been 
brought  to  bay  by  an  enemy  that  was  feared  inex 
pressibly,  but  from  which  there  seemed  no  es 
cape. 

He  took  her  hand  with  a  strong  and  reassuring 
pressure. 

"  Oh,"  she  exclaimed  with  a  slight  shudder,  "  how 
can  the  sun  shine?  The  birds,  too,  are  singing  as  if 
there  were  no  death  and  sorrow  in  the  world." 

"  Only  a  perfect  faith,  Miss  Amy,  can  enable  us, 
who  do  know  there  is  death  and  sorrow,  to  follow 
their  example." 

"  It's  all  a  black  mystery  to  me,"  she  replied,  turn 
ing  away. 

"  So  it  was  to  me  once." 

An  old  colored  man,  the  husband  of  the  negress 


0  PRICELESS  LIFE!  527 

who  had  assisted  Haldane  in  his  watch,  now  ap 
peared  and  announced  breakfast. 

It  was  a  comparatively  silent  meal,  little  Bertha 
doing  most  of  the  talking.  Amy  would  not  have 
touched  a  mouthful  had  it  not  been  for  Haldane's 
persuasion. 

As  soon  as  Bertha  had  finished,  she  said  to  Hal 
dane: 

"Amy  told  me  that  you  did  papa  ever  so  much 
good  last  evening :  now  I  want  to  see  him  right  away." 

"  Does  she  not  know?  "asked  Haldane  in  a  low 
tone. 

Amy  shook  her  head.  "  It's  too  awful.  What  can 
I  tell  her  ?  "  she  faltered. 

"  It  is  indeed  inexpressibly  sad,  but  I  think  I  can 
tell  the  child  without  its  seeming  awful  to  her,  and 
yet  tell  her  the  truth,"  he  replied.  "  Shall  I  try  to 
explain?  " 

"  Yes,  and  let  me  listen,  too,  if  you  can  rob  the 
event  of  any  of  its  unutterable  horror." 

"  Will  Bertie  come  and  listen  to  me  if  I  will  tell 
her  about  papa?  " 

The  child  climbed  into  his  lap  at  once,  and  turned 
her  large  blue  eyes  up  to  his  in  perfect  faith. 

"  Don't  you  remember  that  papa  spoke  last  night 
of  leaving  you ;  but  said  you  would  surely  meet 
again?  " 

At  this  the  child's  lip  began  to  quiver,  and  she 
said :  "  But  papa  always  comes  and  kisses  me  good- 
by  before  he  goes  away." 

"  Perhaps  he  did,  Bertie,  when  you  were  asleep  in 
your  crib  last  night." 


528     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Oh  yes,  now  I'm  sure  he  did  if  he's  gone  away, 
'cause  I  'member  he  once  woke  me  up  kissing  me 
good-by." 

"  I  think  he  kissed  you  very  softly,  and  so  you 
didn't  wake.  Our  dear  Saviour,  Jesus,  came  last 
night,  and  papa  went  away  with  him.  But  he  loves 
you  just  as  much  as  ever,  and  he  isn't  sick  any  more, 
and  you  will  surely  see  him  again." 

"  Do  you  think  he  will  bring  me  something  nice 
when  he  comes  ?  " 

"When  you  see  him  again  he  will  have  for  you, 
Bertie,  more  beautiful  things  than  you  ever  saw  be 
fore  in  all  your  life,  but  it  may  be  a  long  time  before 
you  see  him." 

The  child  slipped  down  from  his  knee  quite  satis 
fied  and  full  of  pleasant  anticipation,  and  went  back 
to  her  play  on  the  piazza. 

"  Do  you  believe  all  that  ?  "  asked  Amy,  looking 
as  if  Bertha  had  been  told  a  fairy  tale. 

"  I  do,  indeed.  I  have  told  the  child  what  I  re 
gard  as  the  highest  form  of  the  truth,  though  ex 
pressed  in  simple  language.  Miss  Amy,  I  know  that 
your  father  was  ever  kind  to  you.  Did  he  ever  turn 
coldly  away  from  any  earnest  appeal  of  yours?  " 

"  Never,  never,"  cried  the  girl,  with  a  rush  of 
tears. 

"  And  can  you  believe  that  his  Heavenly  Father 
turned  from  his  touching  appeal  last  night  ?  Christ 
said  to  those  who  were  trusting  in  him,  '  I  will  come 
again  and  receive  you  unto  myself;  that  where  I 
am  there  ye  may  be  also.'  As  long  as  your  father 
was  conscious,  he  was  clinging  to  that  divine  hand 


0  PRICELESS  LIFE  ! 


529 


that  has  never  failed  one  true  believer  in  all  these 
centuries.  Surely,  Miss  Amy,  your  own  reason  tells 
you  that  the  poor  helpless  form  that  we  must  bury 
to-day  is  not  your  father.  The  genial  spirit,  the 
mind  that  was  a  power  out  in  the  world,  the  soul 
with  its  noble  and  intense  affections  and  aspirations 
— these  made  the  man  that  was  your  father.  There 
fore  I  say  with  truth  that  the  man,  the  imperishable 
part,  has  gone  away  with  him  who  loved  humanity, 
and  who  has  prepared  a  better  place  for  us  than  this 
earth  can  ever  be  under  the  most  favoring  circum 
stances.  You  can  understand  that  the  body  is  but 
the  changing,  perishing  shadow. 

"  When  you  compare  the  poor,  disease-shattered 
house  in  yonder  room,  with  the  regal  spirit  that 
dwelt  within  it,  when  you  compare  that  prostrate 
form — which,  like  a  fallen  tree  in  the  forest,  i-s  yield 
ing  to  the  universal  law  of  change — with  the  strong, 
active,  intelligent  man  that  was  your  father,  do  not 
your  very  senses  assure  you  that  your  father  has 
gone  away,  and,  as  I  told  Bertha,  you  will  surely  see 
him  again  ?  It  may  seem  to  you  that  what  I  said 
about  the  good-by  kiss  was  but  a  fiction  to  soothe 
the  child,  but  in  my  belief  it  was  not.  Though 
we  know  with  certainty  so  little  of  the  detail  of  the 
life  beyond,  we  have  two  good  grounds  on  which 
to  base  reasonable  conjecture.  We  know  of  God's 
love  ;  we  know  your  father's  love ;  now  what  would 
be  natural  in  view  of  these  two  facts  ?  I  think  we  can 
manage  to  keep  Bertha  from  seeing  that  which  is 
no  longer  her  father,  and  thus  every  memory  of  him 
will  be  pleasant.  We  will  leave  intact  the  impres- 
23 


530 


KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


sion  which  he  himself  made  when  he  acted  con 
sciously,  for  this  which  now  remains  is  not  himself*  at 
all." 

Further  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the 
arrival  of  Dr.  Orton ;  but  Haldane  saw  that  Amy  had 
grasped  at  his  words  as  one  might  try  to  catch  a 
rope  that  was  being  lowered  to  him  in  some  other 
wise  hopeless  abyss. 

"  I  feared  that  such  might  be  the  end,"  said  the 
doctor,  gloomily,  on  learning  from  Haldane  the 
events  of  the  night ;  "  it  frequently  is  in  constitutions 
like  his."  Then  he  went  up  and  saw  Mrs.  Poland. 

The  lady's  condition  gave  him  much  anxiety,  but 
he  kept  it  to  himself  until  they  were  alone.  After 
leaving  quieting  medicines  for  her  with  Amy,  and 
breaking  utterly  down  in  trying  to  say  a  few  words 
of  comfort  to  the  fatherless  girl,  he  motioned  to 
Haldane  to  follow  him. 

"Come  with  me  to  the  city,"  he  said,  "and  we 
will  arrange  for  such  disposal  of  the  remains  as  are 
best." 

Having  informed  Amy  of  the  nature  of  his  errand, 
and  promising  to  telegraph  Mrs.  Arnot,  Haldane 
accompanied  the  physician  to  the  business  part  of 
town. 

"  You  have  been  a  godsend  to  them,"  said  the 
kind-hearted  old  doctor,  blowing  his  nose  furiously. 
"  This  case  comes  a  little  nearer  home  than  any  that 
has  yet  occurred  ;  but  then  the  bottom  is  just  falling 
out  of  everything,  and  it  looks  as  if  we  would  all  go 
before  we  have  a  frost.  It  seems  to  me,  though, 
that  I  can  stand  anything  rather  than  see  Amy  go. 


0  PRICELESS  LIFE! 


531 


She  is  engaged  to  a  nephew  of  mine — as  fine  a  fel 
low  as  there  is  in  town,  if  I  do  say  it,  and  I  love  the 
girl  as  if  she  were  my  own  child.  My  nephew  is 
traveling  in  Europe  now,  and  I  doubt  if  he  knows 
the  danger  hanging  over  the  girl.  If  anything  hap 
pens  to  her  it  will  about  kill  him,  for  he  idolizes, 
her,  and  well  he  may.  I'm  dreadfully  anxious  about 
them  all.  I  fear  most  for  Mrs.  Poland's  mind.  She's 
a  New-England  lady,  as  I  suppose  you  know — . 
wonderfully  gifted  woman,  too  much  brain  power 
for  that  fragile  body  of  hers.  Well,  perhaps  you 
did  not  understand  all  that  was  said  last  night ;  but 
Mrs.  Poland  has  always  been  a  great  reader,  and  she 
has  been  carried  away  by  the  materialistic  philoso 
phy  that's  in  fashion  now-a-days.  Queer,  isn't  it? 
and  she  two-thirds  spirit  herself.  Her  husband  and 
my  best  friend  was  as  genial  and  whole-souled  a 
man  as  ever,  lived,  fond  of  a  good  dinner,  fond  of  a 
joke,  and  fond  of  his  family  to  idolatry.  His  wife 
had  unbounded  influence  over  him,  or  otherwise  he 
might  have  been  a  little  fast  ;  but  he  always  laughed' 
at  what  he  called  her  'Yankee  notions,'  and  said 
he  would  not  accept  her  philosophy  until  she  be 
came  a  little  more  material  herself.  Poland  was  a 
square,  successful  business-man,  but  I  fear  he  did 
not  lay  up  much.  He  was  too  open-hearted  and 
free-handed — a  typical  Southerner  I  suppose  you 
would  say  at  the  North,  that  is,  those  of  you  who 
don't  think  of  us  as  all  slave-drivers  and  slave- 
traders.  I  expect  the  North  and  South  will  have 
to  have  a  good,  square,  stand-up  fight  before  they 
understand  each  other." 


532     KNIGHT  Of    THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  God  forbid !  "  ejaculated  Haldane. 

"Well,  I  don't  think  you  and  I  will  ever  quarrel. 
You  may  call  us  what  you  please  if  you  will  take 
care  of  Poland's  family." 

"  I  have  already  learned  to  have  a  very  thorough 
respect  both  for  your  head  and  heart,  Doctor  Or- 
ton." 

"  I'm  considerably  worse  than  they  average  down 
here.  But  as  I  was  telling  you,  Mrs.  Poland  was  a 
New-England  woman,  and  to  humor  her  her  hus 
band  employed  such  white  servants  as  could  be  got 
in  the  city,  and  poor  trash  they  were  most  of  the 
time.  When  the  fever  appeared  they  left  instantly. 
Poland  bought  the  old  colored  people  who'  are  there 
with  the  place,  and  gave  them  their  freedom,  and 
only  they  have  stood  by  them.  What  they  would 
have  done  last  night  if  you  had  no.t  come,  God 
only  knows.  Poor  Amy,  poor  Amy!"  sighed  the 
old  doctor  tempestuously  ;  "  she's  the  prettiest  and 
pluckiest  little  girl  in  the  city.  She's  half  frightened 
out  of  her  wits,  I  can  see  that,  and  yet  nothing  but 
force  could  get  her  away.  For  my  nephew's  sake 
and  her  own  I  tried  hard  to  induce  her  to  go,  but 
she  stands  her  ground  like  a  soldier.  What  is  best 
now  I  hardly  know.  Mrs.  Poland  is  so  utterly  pros 
trated  that  it  might  cost  her  life  to  move  her.  Be 
sides,  they  have  all  been  so  terribly  exposed  to  the 
disease  that  they  might  be  taken  with  it  on  the  jour 
ney,  and  to  have  them  go  wandering  off  the  Lord 
knows  where  at  this  chaotic  time  looks  to  me  about 
as  bad  as  staying  where  they  are,  and  I  can  look 
after  them.  But  we'll  see,  we'll  see."  And  in  like 


0  PRICELESS  LIFE! 


533 


manner  the  sorely-troubled  old  gentleman  talked 
rapidly  on,  till  they  reached  the  undertaker's,  seem 
ingly  finding  a  relief  in  thus  unburdening  his  heart 
to  one  of  whose  sympathy  he  felt  sure,  and  who 
might  thus  be  led  to  feel  a  deeper  interest  in  the 
objects  of  his  charge. 

Even  at  that  time  of  general  disaster  Haldane's 
abundant  funds  enabled  him  to  secure  prompt  at 
tention.  It  was  decided  that  Mr.  Poland's  remains 
should  be  placed  in  a  receiving  vault  until  such  time 
that  they  could  be  removed  to  the  family  burying- 
ground  in  another  city,  and  before  the  day  closed 
everything  had  been  attended  to  in  the  manner  which 
refined  Christian  feeling  would  dictate. 

Before  parting  with  Haldane,  Doctor  Orton  had 
given  him  careful  directions  what  to  do  in  case  he 
recognized  symptoms  of  the  fever  in  any  of  the 
family  or  himself.  "  Keep  Amy  and  Bertha  with 
their  mother  all  you  can,"  he  said;  "anything  to 
rouse  the  poor  woman  from  that  stony,  despair  into 
which  she  seems  to  have  fallen." 

The  long  day  at  length  came  to  an  end.  Haldane 
of  necessity  had  been  much  away,  and  he  welcomed 
the  cool  and  quiet  evening;  and  yet  he  knew  that 
with  the  shadow  of  night,  though  so  grateful  after 
the  glare  and  heat  to  which  he  had  been  subjected, 
the  fatal  pestilence  approached  the  nearer,  as  if  to 
strike  a  deadlier  blow.  As  the  pioneer  forefathers 
of  the  city  had  shut  their  doors  and  windows  at 
night-fall  lest  their  savage  and  lurking  foes  should 
send  a  fatal  arrow  from  some  dusky  covert,  so  now 
again,  with  the  close  of  the  day,  all  doors  and  win- 


534    ANIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

dows  must  be  shut  against  a  more  subtle  and  remorse 
less  enemy,  whose  viewless  shafts  sped  with  a  surer 
aim  in  darkness. 

Amy  had  spent  much  of  the  day  in  unburdening 
her  heart  in  a  long  letter  to  her  cousin  Laura,  in 
which  in  her  own  vivid  way  she  portrayed  the  part 
Haldane  had  acted  toward  them.  She  had  also 
written  to  her  distant  and  unconscious  lover,  and 
feeling  that -it  might  be  the  last  time,  she  had  pour- 
e-d  out  to  him  a  passion  that  was  as  intense  and 
yet  as  pure  as  the  transparent  flame  that  we 
sometimes  see  issuing  from  the  heart  of  the  hard 
wood  maple,  as  we  sit  brooding  over  our  winter 
fire. 

"  Come  and  sit  with  us,  and  as  one  of  us."  she 
had  said  to  Haldane,  and  so  they  had  all  gathered  at 
the  bedside  of  the  widow,  who  had  scarcely  strength 
to  do  more  than  fix  her  dark,  wistful  eyes  on  one  and 
another  of  the  group.  She  was  so  bewildered  and 
overwhelmed  with  her  loss  that  her  mind  had  partial 
ly  suspended  its  action.  She  saw  and  heard  every 
thing  ;  she  remembered  it  all  afterwards ;  but  now 
the  very  weight  of  the  blow  had  so  stunned  her 
that  she  was  mercifully  saved  from  the  agony  of  full 
consciousness. 

Little  Bertha  climbed  upon  Haldane's  lap  and 
pleaded  for  a  story. 

"  Yes,  Bertie,"  he  said,  "  and  I  think  I  know  a 
story  that  you  would  like.  You  remember  I  told 
you  that  your  papa  had  gone  away  with  Jesus  ; 
would  you  not  like  to  hear  a  story  about  this  good 
friend  of  your  papa's?" 


O  PRICELESS  LIFE!  535 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  would.  Do  you  know  much  about 
him  ?  " 

"  Quite  a  good  deal,  for  he's  my  friend  too.  I 
know  one  true  story  about  him  that  I  often  like  to 
think  of.  Listen,  and  I  will  tell  it  to  you.  Jesus  is 
the  God  who  made  us,  and  he  lives  'way  up  above 
the  sky.  But  he  not  only  made  us,  Bertie,  but  he 
also  loves  us,  and  in  order  to  show  us  how  he  loves 
us  he  is  always  coming  to  this  world  to  do  us  good ; 
and  once  he  came  and  lived  here  just  like  a  man,  so 
that  we  might  all  be  sure  that  he  cared  for  us  and 
wanted  to  make  us  good  and  happy.  Well,  at  that 
time  when  he  lived  here  in  this  world  as  a  man  he 
had  some  true  friends  who  loved  him  and  believed 
in  him.  At  a  certain  time  they  were  all  staying  on 
the  shore  of  a  sea,  and  one  evening  Jesus  told  his 
friends  to  take  a  little  boat  and  go  over  to  the  other 
side  of  the  sea,  and  that  he  would  meet  them  there. 
Then  Jesus,  who  wanted  to  be  alone,  went  up  the 
side  of  the  mountain  that  rose  from  the  water's 
edge.  Then  night  came  and  it  began  to  grow  darker 
and  darker,  and  at  last  it  was  so  dark  that  the  friends 
of  Jesus  that  were  in  the  boat  could  only  see  a  very 
little  ways.  Then  a  moaning,  sighing  wind  began 
to  rise,  and  the  poor  men  in  the  boat  saw  that  a 
storm  was  coming,  and  they  pulled  hard  with  their 
oars  in  hopes  of  getting  over  on  the  other  side  before 
the  storm  became  very  bad  ;  but  by  the  time  they 
reached  the  very  middle  of  the  sea,  the  wind  began 
to  blow  furiously,  just  as  you  have  seen  it  blow  when 
the  trees  bent  'way  over  toward  the  ground,  and 
some  perhaps  were  broken  down.  A  strong  wind 


536     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

at  sea  makes  the  water  rise  up  in  waves,  and  these 
waves  began  to  beat  against  the  boat,  and  before 
very  long  some  of  the  highest  ones  would  dash  into  it. 
The  men  pulled  with  their  oars  with  all  their  might, 
but  it  was  of  no  use  ;  the  wind  was  right  against 
them,  and  though  they  did  their  best  hour  after  hour, 
they  still  could  get  no  nearer  the  shore.  How  sad 
"and  full  of  danger  was  their  condition  !  the  dark, 
dark  night  was  above  and  around  them,  the  dark, 
angry  waves  dashing  by  and  over  them,  the  cold, 
black  depths  of  water  beneath  them,  and  no  sound 
in  their  ears  but  the  wild,  rushing  storm.  What  do 
you  think  became  of  them  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  they  were  drowned,"  said  Bertha,  look 
ing  up  with  eyes  that  were  full  of  fear  and  trouble. 

"  Have  you  forgotten  Jesus?  " 

"  But  he's  'way  off  on  the  side  of  the  mountain." 

"He  is  never  so  far  from  his  friends  but  that  he 
can  see  them  and  know  all  about  them.  He  saw  these 
friends  in  the  boat,  for  Jesus  can  see  in  the  dark 
ness  as  well  as  in  the  light ;  and  when  the  night  grew 
darkest,  and  the  waves  were  highest,  and  his  friends 
most  weary  and  discouraged,  he  came  to  them  s.o 
that  they  might  know  that  he  could  save  them,  when 
they  felt  they  could  not  save  themselves.  And  he 
came  as  no  other  help  could  have  come— walking 
over  the  very  waves  that  threatened  to  swallow  up 
his  friends ;  and  when  he  was  near  to  them  he  called 
out,  '  Be  of  good  cheer,  it  is  I  ;  be  not  afraid.' 
Then  he  went  right  up  to  the  boat  and  stepped  into 
it  among  his  friends  ;  oh !  what  a  happy  change  his 
coming  made,  for  the  winds  ceased,  the  waves  went 


0  PRICELESS  LIFE! 


537 


down,  and  in  a  very  little  while  the  boat  reached 
the  seashore.  The  bright  sun  rose  up,  the  dark 
ness  fled  away,  and  the  friends  of  Jesus  were  safe. 
They  have  been  safe  ever  since.  Nothing  can  harm 
Jesus's  friends.  He  takes  care  of  them  from  day  to 
day,  from  year  to  year,  and  from  age  to  age.  When 
ever  they  are  in  trouble  or  pain  or  danger  he  comes 
to  them  as  he  did  to  his  friends  in  the  boat,  and  he 
brings  them  safely  through  it  all.  Don't  you  think 
he  is  a  good  friend  to  have  ?  " 

"  Isn't  I  too  little  to  be  his  friend  ?  " 

<4  No,  indeed  ;  no  one  ever  loved  little  children  as 
he  does.  He  used  to  take  them  in  his  arms  and 
bless  them,  and  he  said,  *  Suffer  them  to  come  to 
me ; '  and  where  he  lives  he  has  everything  beauti 
ful  to  make  little  children  happy." 

"  And  you  say  papa  is  with  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  papa  is  with  him." 

"  Why  can't  we  all  go  to  him  now  ?  " 

"  As  soon  as  he  is  ready  for  us  he  will  come  for  us." 

"  I  wish  he  was  ready  for  momma,  Amy,  and  me 
now,  and  then  we  could  all  be  together.  It's  so 
lonely  without  papa.  Oh  !  I'm  so  tired,"  she  added 
atter  a  few  moments,  and  a  little  later  her  head  drop 
ped  against  Haldane's  breast,  and  she  was  asleep. 

"  Mr.  Haldane,"  said  Amy  in  a  low,  agitated  voice^ 
"  have  you  embodied  your  faith  in  that  story  to 
Bertha?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Amy." 

"  Why  do  you  think  " — and  she  hesitated.     "  How 
do  you  know,"  she  began  again,  "  that  any  such  Be 
ing  as  Jesus  exists  and  comes  to  any  one's  help?" 
23* 


538     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Granting  that  the  story  I  have  told  you  is  true, 
how  did  his  disciples  know  that  he  came  to  their 
help?  Did  not  the  hushed  winds  prove  it?  Did 
not  the  quieted  waters  prove  it  ?  Did  not  his  pres 
ence  with  them  assure  them  of  it  ?  By  equal  proof 
I  know  that  he  can  and  will  come  to  the  aid  of  those 
who  look  to  him  for  aid.  I  have  passed  through 
darker  nights  and  wilder  storms  than  ever  lowered 
over  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  and  I  know  by  simple,  prac 
tical,  happy  experience  that  Jesus  Christ,  through 
his  all-pervading  Spirit,  has  come  to  me  in  my  utter 
extremity  again  and  again,  and  that  I  have  the  same 
as  felt  his  rescuing  hand.  Not  that  my  trials  and 
temptations  have  been  greater  than  those  of  many 
others,  but  I  have  been  weaker  than  others,  and  I 
have  often  been  conscious  of  his  sustaining  power 
when  otherwise  I  would  have  sunk  beneath  my  bur 
den.  This  is  not  a  theory,  Miss  Amy,  nor  the  infatu 
ation  of  a  few  ignorant  people.  It  is  the  downright 
experience  of  multitudes  in  every  walk  of  life,  and, 
on  merely  scientific  grounds,  is  worth  as  much  as 
any  other  experience.  This  story  of  Jesus  gains  the 
sympathy  of  little  Bertha  ;  it  also  commands  the 
reverent  belief  of  the  most  gifted  and  cultured 
minds  in  the  world." 

"  Oh,  that  I  could  believe  all  this ;  but  there  is  so 
much  mystery,  so  much  that  is  dark."  Then  she 
glanced  at  her  mother,  who  had  turned  away  her 
face  and  seemed  to  be  sleeping,  and  she  asked  :  "  If 
Christ  is  so  strong  to  help  and  save,  why  is  he  not 
strong  to  prevent  evil  ?  Why  is  there  a  cry  of  ag 
ony  going  up  from  this  stricken  city  ?  Why  must 


0  PRICELESS  LIFE! 


539 


father  die,  who  was  everything  to  us?  Why  must 
mother  suffer  so?  Why  am  I  so  shadowed  by  an 
awful  fear?  Life  means  so  much  to  me.  I  love  it," 
she  continued  in  low  yet  passionate  tones.  "  I  love 
the  song  of  birds,  the  breath  of  flowers,  the  sunlight, 
and  every  beautiful  thing.  I  love  sensation.  I  am 
not  one  who  find  a  tame  and  tranquil  pleasure  in 
the  things  I  love  or  in  the  friends  I  love.  •  My  joys 
thrill  every  nerve  and  fiber  of  my  being.  I  cling 
to  them,  I  cannot  give  them  up.  A  few  days  ago 
life  was  as  full  of  rich  promise  to  me  as  our  tropical 
spring.  It  is  still,  though  I  will  never  cease  to  feel 
the  pain  of  this  great  sorrow,  and  yet  this  horrible 
pit  of  death,  corruption,  and  nothingness  yawns  at 
my  very  feet.  Mr.  Haldane,"  she  said  in  a  still 
lower  and  more  shuddering  tone,  '*  I  have  a  terrible 
presentiment  that  I  shall  perish  with  this  loathsome 
disease.  I  may  seem  to  you,  who  are  so  quiet  and 
brave,  very  weak  and  cowardly ;  but  I  shrink  from 
death  with  a  dread  which  you  cannot  understand 
and  which  no  language  can  express.  It  is  repugnant 
to  every  instinct  of  my  being,  and  I  can  only  think 
of  it  with  unutterable  loathing.  If  I  were  old  and 
feeble,  if  I  had  tasted  all  the  joys  of  life  I  might 
submit,  but  not  now,  not  now.  I  feel  with  father  that 
it  is  fiendish  cruelty  to  give  one  such  an  intense  love 
of  life  and  then  wrench  it  away ;  and,  passionately 
as  I  love  life,  there  is  one  far  more  dear.  There  is 
that  in  your  nature  which  has  so  won  my  confidence 
that  I  can  reveal  to  you  my  whole  heart.  Mr.  Hal 
dane,  I  love  one  who  is  like  you,  manly  and  noble, 
and  dearly  as  I  prize  life,  I  think  I  could  give  it 


540 


KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


away  in  slow  torture  for  his  sake,  if  required.  How 
often  my  heart,  has  thrilled  to  see  his  eyes  kindle 
with  his  foolish  admiration,  the  infatuation  of  love 
which  makes  its  object  beautiful  at  least  to  the 
lover.  And  now  to  think  that  he  does  not  know 
what  I  suffer  and  fear,  to  think  that  I  may  never  see 
him  again,  to  think  that  when  he  returns  I  may  be  a 
hideous  mass  of  corruption  that  he  cannot  even  ap 
proach.  Out  upon  the  phrases  '  beneficent  nature, 
and 'natural  law.'  Laws  which  permit  such  things 
are  most  unnatural,  and  to  endow  one  with  such  a 
love  of  life,  such  boundless  capabilities  of  enjoying 
life,  and  then  at  the  supreme  moment  when  the 
loss  will  be  most  bitterly  felt  to  snatch  it  away,  looks 
to  me  more  like  the  work  of  devilish  ingenuity  than 
of  a  'beneficent  nature.'  I  feel  with  father,  it  is 
fiendish  cruelty." 

Haladne  bowed  his  head  among  Bertha's  curls  to 
hide  the  tears  that  would  come  at  this  desperate 
cry  of  distress  ;  but  Amy's  eyes  were  hard  and  dry, 
and  had  the  agonized  look  which  might  have  been 
their  expression  had  she  been  enduring  physical  tor 
ture. 

"  Miss  Amy,"  he  said  brokenly  after  a  moment, 
"  you  forget  that  your  father  said,  *  If  this  life  is  all,  it 
is  fiendishly  cruel  to  tear  us  from  that  which  we 
have  learned  to  love  so  dearly/  and  I  agree  with 
him.  But  this  life  is  not  all;  the  belief  that  human 
life  ends  at  death  is  revolting  to  reason,  conscience, 
and  every  sense  of  justice.  If  this  were  true  the 
basest  villain  could  escape  all  the  consequences  of  his 
evil  in  a  moment,  and  you  who  are  so  innocent,  so 


O  PRICELESS  LIFE! 


541 


exquisite  in  your  spiritual  organization,  so  brave  and 
noble  that  you  can  face  this  awful  fear  in  your  devo 
tion  to  those  you  love — you  by  ceasing  to  breathe 
merely  would  sink  to  precisely  the  same  level  and  be 
no  different  from  the  lifeless  clay  of  the  villain.  Such 
monstrous  injustice  is  impossible  ;  it  outrages  every 
instinct  of  justice,  every  particle  of  reason  that  I  have. 
"  Miss  Amy,  don't  you  see  that  you  are  like  the 
disciples  in  the  boat  out  in  the  midst  of  the  sea? 
The  night  is  dark  above  you,  the  storm  is  wild 
around  you,  the  waves  are  dashing  over  you,  the 
little  boat  is  frail,  and  there  are  such  cold,  dark 
depths  beneath  it.  But  we  can't  help  these  things. 
We  can't  explain  the  awful  mystery  of  evil  and  suf 
fering  ;  sooner  or  later  every  human  life  becomes 
enveloped  in  darkness,  storm,  and  danger.  That 
wave-tossed  boat  in  the  midst  of  the  sea  is  an  em 
blem  of  the  commonest  human  experience.  On  the 
wide  sea  of  life,  numberless  little  barks  are  at  this 
moment  at  the  point  of  foundering.  Few  are  so 
richly  freighted  as  yours,  but  the  same  unknown 
depths  are  beneath  each.  But,  Miss  Amy,  I  pray 
you  remember  the  whole,  of  this  suggestive  Bible 
story.  Those  imperiled  disciples  were  watched  by 
a  loving,  powerful  friend.  He  came  to  their  aid, 
making  the  very  waves  that  threatened  to  engulf  the 
pathway  of  his  rescuing  love.  He  saved  those  old- 
time  friends.  They  are  living  to-day,  they  will  live 
forever.  I  can't  explain  the  dark  and  terrible  things 
of  which  this  world  is  full,  I  cannot  explain  the  awful 
mystery  of  evil  in  any  of  its  forms.  I  know  the 
pestilence  is  all  around  us;  I  know  it  seems  to 


542     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

k 

threaten  your  precious,  beautiful  life.  I  recognize 
the  fact,  as  I  also  remember  the  fact  of  the  dark 
ness  and  storm  around  the  little  boat.  But  I  also 
know  with  absolute  certainty  that  there  is  one  who 
can  come  to  your  rescue,  whose  province  it  is  to 
give  life,  deathless  life,  life  more  rich  and  full  of 
thrilling  happiness  than  you  have  ever  dreamed  of, 
even  with  your  vivid  imagination." 

"  How,  how  can  you  know  this?  What  proof  can 
you  give  me?"  she  asked;  and  no  poor  creature, 
whose  life  was  indeed  at  stake,  ever  bent  forward 
more  eagerly  to  catch  the  sentence  of  life  or  death, 
than  did  Amy  Poland  the  coming  answer. 

"  I  know  it,"  he  replied  more  calmly,  "  on  the 
strongest  possible  grounds  of  evidence — my  own  ex 
perience,  the  experience  of  Mrs.  Arnot,  who  is  sin 
cerity  itself,  and  the  experience  of  multitudes  of 
others.  Believers  in  Jesus  Christ  have  been  verify 
ing  his  promises  in  every  age,  and  in  every  possible 
emergency  and  condition  of  life,  and  if  their  testi 
mony  is  refus-ed,  human  consciousness  is  no  longer 
a  basis  of  knowledge.  No  one  ever  had  a  better 
friend  than  Mrs.  Arnot  has  been  to  me ;  she  has  been 
the  means  of  saving  me  from  disgrace,  shame,  and 
everything  that  was  base,  and  I  love  her  with  a 
gratitude  that  is  beyond  words,  and  yet  I  am  not  so 
conscious  of  her  practical  help  and  friendship  as  that 
of  the  Divine  Man  who  has  been  my  patient  unwav 
ering  friend  in  my  long,  hard  struggle." 

The  hard,  dry  despair  of  Amy  had  given  way  to 
gentler  feelings  under  his  words,  which  found  ex 
pression  in  low,  piteous  sobbing. 


0  PRICELESS  LIFE! 


543 


11  Oh,  when  will  he  come  to  me  ?  "  she  asked,  "  for 
I  cannot  doubt  after  such  words." 

"When  you  most  need  him,  Miss  Amy.  It  is 
your  privilege  to  ask  his  comforting  and  sustaining 
presence  now ;  but  he  will  come  when  he  sees  that 
you  most  need  him." 

"  If  ever  poor  creatures  needed  such  a  friend  as 
you  have  described,  we  need  him  now,"  faltered 
Mrs.  Poland,  turning  her  face  toward  them,  and  then 
they  knew  that  she  had  heard  all. 

Amy  sprang  to  her  embrace,  exclaiming,  "  Mother, 
is  it  possible  that  we  can  find  such  a  friend  in  our 
extremity?  " 

"  Amy,  I  am  bewildered,  I  am  overwhelmed." 

Haldane  carried  little  Bertha  to  her  crib  and  cov 
ered  her  with  an  afghan.  Then  coming  to  the  lady's 
side  he  took  her  hand  and  said  gently,  and  yet  with 
that  quiet  firmness  which  does  much  to  produce  con 
viction  :  "  Mrs.  Poland,  before  leaving  your  husband 
to  his  quiet  sleep  we  read  words  which  Jesus  Christ 
once  spoke  to  a  despairing,  grief-stricken  woman. 
Take  them  now  as  if  spoken  to  you.  *  Jesus  said 
unto  her,  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life:  he  that 
believeth  in  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he 
live  ;  and  whosoever  liveth  and  believeth  in  me  shall 
never  die.'  As  your  husband  said  to  3^ou,  you  will 
all  surely  meet  again." 

Then  he  lifted  her  hand  to  his  lips  in  a  caress  that 
was  full  of  sympathy  and  respect,  and  silently  left 
the  room. 


544     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  LII. 

A   MAN  VERSUS  A  CONNOISSEUR. 

AMY'S  sad  presentiment  was  almost  verified. 
She  was  very  ill,  and  for  hours  of  painful 
uncertainty  Haldane  watched  over  her  and  admin 
istered  the  remedies  which  Dr.  Orton  left  ;  and 
indeed  the  doctor  himself  was  never  absent  very 
long,  for  his  heart  was  bound  up  in  the  girl.  At 
last,  after  a  wavering  poise,  the  scale  turned  in  favor 
of  life,  and  she  began  to  slowly  revive. 

Poor  Mrs.  Poland  was  so  weak  that  she  could  not 
raise  her  head  or  hand,  but,  with  her  wistful,  pathetic 
eyes,  followed  every  motion,  for  she  insisted  on  hav 
ing  Amy  in  the. same  room  with  herself.  Aunt  Saba, 
the  old  negress,  to  whom  Mr.  Poland  had  given  her 
freedom,  continued  a  faithful  assistant.  Bound  to 
her  mistress  by  the  stronger  chain  of  gratitude  and 
affection,  she  served  with  fidelity  in  every  way  possi 
ble  to  her ;  and  she  and  her  husband  were  so  old  and 
humble  that  death  seemingly  had  forgotten  them. 

Before  Amy  was  stricken  down  with  the  fever  the 
look  of  unutterable  dread  and  anxiety  that  was  so 
painful  to  witness  passed  away,  and  gave  place  to  an 
expression  of  quiet  serenity. 

"  I  need  no  further  argument,"  she  had  said  to 


A   MAN    VERSUS  A    CONNOISSEUR. 


545 


Haldane ;  "  Christ  has  come  across  the  waves  of  my 
trouble.  I  am  as  sure  of  it  as  I  am  sure  that  you 
came  to  my  aid.  I  do  not  know  whether  mother  or 
Bertha  or  I  will  survive,  but  I  believe  that  God's 
love  is  as  great  as  his  power,  and  that  in  some  way 
and  at  some  time  all  will  come  out  for  the  best.  I 
have  written  to  my  friend  abroad  and  to  Auntie 
Arnot  all  about  it,  and  now  I  am  simply  waiting. 
O,  Mr.  Haldane,  I  am  so  happy  to  tell  you,"  she  had 
added,  "  that  I  think  mother  is  accepting  the  same 
faith,  slowly  and  in  accordance  with  her  nature,  but 
surely  nevertheless.  I  am  like  father,  quick  and 
intense  in  my  feelings.  I  feel  that  which  is  false 
or  that  which  is  true,  rather  than  reason  it  out  as 
mother  does."  * 

Aunt  Saba  and  her  husband  managed  to  take  care 
of  Bertha  and  keep  her  mind  occupied ;  but  before 
Amy's  convalescence  had  proceeded  very  far  the 
little  girl  was  suddenly  prostrated  by  a  most  violent 
attack  of  the  disease,  and  she  withered  before  the 
hot  fever  like  a  fragile  flower  in  a  simoom.  Haldane 
went  hastily  for  Dr.  Orton,  but  he  gave  scarcely  a 
hope  from  the  first. 

During  the  night  following  the  day  on  which  she 
had  been  stricken  down  a  strange  event  occurred.* 
The  sultry  heat  had  been  followed  by  a  tropical 
thunder-storm,  which  had  gathered  in  the  darkness, 

*  It  is  stated  on  high  medical  authority  that  "  all  patients  suffer 
more  during  thunder-showers,"  and  an  instance  is  given  of  a  physician 
who  was  suffering  from  this  fever,  and  who  was  killed  as  instantly,  by 
a  vivid  flash  and  loud  report,  as  if  he  had  been  struck  by  the 
lightning. 


546     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

and  often  gave  to  the  midnight  a  momentary  and 
brighter  glare  than  that  of  the  previous  noon.  •  The 
child  would  start  as  the  flashes  grew  more  intense, 
for  they  seemed  to  distress  her  very  much.. 

As  Haldane  was  lifting  her  to  give  her  a  drink  he 
said  : 

"  Perhaps  Bertie  will  see  papa  very  soon." 

Hearing  the  word  "  papa,"  the  child'  forgot  her 
pain  for  a. moment  and  smiled.  At  that  instant 
there  was  a  blinding  flash  of  lightning,  and  the  ap 
palling  thunder-peal  followed  without  any  interval. 

Both  Mrs.  Poland  and  Amy  gave  a  faint  and  invol 
untary  cry  of  alarm,  but  Haldane's  eyes  were  fixed- 
on  the  little  smiling  face  that  he  held  so  near  to  his 
own.  The  smile  did  not  fade.  The  old,  perplexed 
expression  of  pain  did  not  come  back,  and  after  a 
moment  he  said  quietly  and  very  gently  : 

"  Bertie  is  with  her  father ;  "  and  he  lifted  her  up 
and  carried  her  to  her  mother,  and  then  to  Amy, 
that  they  might  see  the  beautiful  and  smiling  ex 
pression  of  the  child's  face. 

But  their  eyes  were  so  blinded  by  tears,  that  they 
could  scarcely  see  the  face  from  which  all  trace  of 
suffering  had  been  banished  almost  as  truly  as  from 
the  innocent-spirit. 

Having  laid  her  back  in  the  crib,  and  arranged 
the  little  form  as  if  sleeping,  he  carried  the  crib, 
with  Aunt  Saba's  help,  to  the  room  where  Mr.  Po 
land  had  died.  Then  he  told  the  old  negress  to 
return  and  remain  with  her  mistress,  and  that  he 
would  watch  over  the  body  till  morning. 

That  quiet  watch  by  the  pure  little  child,  with  a 


A   MAN   VERSUS  A    CONNOISSEUR.  547 

trace  of  heaven's  own  beauty  on  her  face,  was  to 
Haldane  like  the  watch  of  the  shepherds  on  the  hill 
side  near  Bethlehem.  At  times,  in  the  deep  hush 
that  followed  the  storm,  he  was  almost  sure  that  he 
heard,  faint  and  far  away,  angelic  minstrelsy  and 
song. 

Haldane's  peculiarly  healthful  and  vigorous  con 
stitution  had  thus  far  resisted  the  infection,  but  after 
returning  from  the  sad  duty  of  laying  little  Bertha's 
remains  by  those  of  her  father,  he  felt  the  peculiar 
languor  which  is  so  often  the  precursor  of  the  chill 
and  subsequent  fever.  Although  he  had  scarcely 
hoped  to  escape  an  attack,  he  had  never  before 
realized  how  disastrous  it  would  be  to  the  very  ones 
he  had  come  to  serve.  Who  was  there  to  take  care 
of  him  ?  Mrs.  Poland  was  almost  helpness  from 
nervous  prostration.  Amy  required  absolute  quiet 
to  prevent  the  more  fatal  relapse,  which  is  almost 
certain  to  follow  exertion  made  too  early  in  con 
valescence.  He  knew  that  if  he  were  in  the  house 
she  would  make  the  attempt  to  do  something  for 
him,  and  he  also  knew  it  would  be  at  the  risk  of  her 
life.  Old  Aunt  Saba  was  worn  out  in  her  attendance 
on  Bertha,  Amy,  and  Mrs.  Poland.  Her  husband, 
and  a  stranger  who  had  been  at  last  secured  to 
assist  him,  were  required  in  the  household  duties. 

He  took  his  decision  promptly,  for  he  felt  that  he 
had  but  brief  time  in  which  to  act.  Going  to  Mrs. 
Poland's  room,  he  said  to  her  and  Amy, 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  both  so  brave  and  doing 
as  well  as  you  are  on  this  sad,  sad  day.  I  do  not 
think  you  will  take  the  disease,  Mrs.  Poland ;  and  you, 


548    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Miss  Amy,  only  need  perfect  quiet  in  order  to  get 
well.  Please  remember,  as  a  great  favor  to  me, 
how  vitally  important  is  the  tranquillity  of  mind 
and  body  that  I  am  ever  preaching  to  you,  and 
don't  do  that  which  fatigues  you  in  the  slightest 
degree,  till  conscious  of  your  old  strength.  And 
now  I  am  going  away  for  a  little  while.  This  is  a 
time  when  every  man  should  be  at  his  post  of  duty. 
I  am  needed  elsewhere,  for  I  know  of  a  case  that 
requires  immediate  attention.  Please  do  not  re 
monstrate,"  he  said,  as  they  began  to  urge  that  he 
should  take  some  rest ;  "  my  mission  here  has 
ended  for  the  present,  and  my  duty  is  elsewhere. 
We  won't  say  good-by,  for  I  shall  not  be  far 
away;"  and  although  he  was  almost  faint  from 
weakness,  his  bearing  was  so  decided  and  strong, 
and  he  appeared  so  bent  on  departure,  that  they 
felt  that  it  would  hardly  be  in  good  taste  to  say  any 
thing  more. 

"  We  are  almost  beginning  to  feel  that  Mr.  Hal- 
dane  belongs  to  us,"  said  Amy  to  her  mother  after 
ward,  "  and  forget  that  he  may  be  prompted  by 
as  strong  a  sense  of  duty  to  others." 

As  Haldane  was  leaving  the  house  Dr.  Orton 
drove  to  the  door.  Before  he  could  alight  the  young 
man  climbed  into  his  buggy  with  almost  desperate 
haste. 

•'  Drive  toward  the  city,"  he  said  so  decisively  that 
the  doctor  obeyed. 

'*  What's  the  matter,  Haldane  ?  Speak,  man  ;  you 
look  sick." 

"  Take  me  to  the  city  hospital.     I  am  sick." 


A   MAN   VERSUS  A    CONNOISSEUR.  549 

"  I  shall  take  you  right  back  to  Mrs.  Poland's," 
said  the  doctor,  pulling  up. 

Haldane  laid  his  hands  on  the  reins,  and  then  ex 
plained  his  fears  and  the  motive  for  his  action. 

"  God  bless  you,  old  fellow  ;  but  you  are  right. 
Any  effort  now  would  cost  Amy  her  life,  and  she 
would  make  it  if  you  were  there.  But  you  are  not 
going  to  the  hospital." 

Dr.  Orton's  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  city 
enabled  him  to  place  Haldane  in  a  comfortable 
room  near  his  own  house,  where  he  could  give  con 
stant  supervision  to  his  case.  He  also  procured  a 
good  nurse,  whose  sole  duty  was  to  take  care  of 
the  young  man.  To  the  anxious  questioning  of 
Mrs.  Poland  and  Amy  from  time  to  time,  the  doctor 
maintained  the  fiction,  saying  that  Haldane  was 
watching  a  very  important  case  under  his  care ;  "  and 
you  know  his  way,"  added  the  old  gentleman,  rub 
bing  his  hands,  as  if  he  were  enjoying  something 
internally,  "he  won't  leave  a  case  till  I  say  it's 
safe,  even  to  visit  you,  of  whom  he  speaks  every 
chance  he  gets  ; "  and  thus  the  two  ladies  in.  their 
feeble  state  were  saved  all  anxiety. 

They  at  length  learned  of  the  merciful  ruse  that 
had  been  played  upon  them  by  the  appearance 
of  their  friend  at  their  door  in  Dr.  Orton's  buggy. 
As  the  old  physician  helped  his  patient,  who  was 
still  rather  weak,  up  the  steps,  he  said  with  his  hearty 
laugh : 

'•  Haldane  has  watched  over  that  case,  that  he  and 
I  told  you  of,  long  enough.  We  now  turn  the  case 
over  to  you,  Miss  Amy.  But  all  he  requires  is  good 


550    KNIGHT  OF   THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

living,  and  I'll  trust  to  you  for  that.  He's  a  trump, 
if  he  is  a  Yankee.  But  drat  him,  I  thought  he'd 
spoil  the  joke  by  dying,  at  one  time." 

The  sentiments  that  people  like  Mrs.  Poland  and 
her  daughter,  Mrs.  Arnot,  and  Laura,  would  naturally 
entertain  toward  one  who  had  served  them  as  Hal- 
da-ne  had  done,  and  at  such  risk  to  himself,  can  be 
better  imagined  than  portrayed.  They  looked  and 
felt  infinitely  more  than  they  were  ever  permitted 
to  say,  for  any  expression  of  obligation  was  evident 
ly  painful  to  him. 

He  speedily  gained  his  old  vigor,  and  before  the 
autumn  frosts  put  an  end  to  the  epidemic,  was  able 
to  render  Dr.  Orton  much  valuable  assistance. 

Amy  became  more  truly  his  sister  than  ever  his  own 
had  been  to  him.  Her  quick  intuition  soon  dis 
covered  his  secret — even  the  changing  expression  of 
his  eyes  at  the  mention  of  Laura's  name  would  have 
revealed  it  to  her — but  he  would  not  let  her  speak 
on  the  subject.  "  She  belongs  to  another,"  he  said, 
"  and  although  to  me  she  is  the  most  beautiful  and 
attractive  woman  in  the  world,  it  must  be  my  life 
long  effort  not  to  think  of  her." 

His  parting  from  Mrs.  Poland  and  Amy  tested  his 
self-control  severely.  In  accordance  with  her  impul 
sive  nature,  Amy  put  her  arms  about  his  neck  as 
she  said  brokenly: 

"  You  were  indeed  God's  messenger  to  us,  and  you 
brought  us  life.  As  father  said,  we  shall  all  meet 
again." 

On  his  return,  Mrs.  Arnot's  greeting  was  that  of 
a  mother.;  but  there  were  traces  of  constraint  in 


A   MAN    VERSUS  A    CONNOISSEUR.  551 

Laura's  manner.  When  she  first  met  him  she  took 
his  hand  in  a  strong  warm  pressure,  and  said,  with 
tears  in  her  eyes: 

"  Mr.  Haldane,  I  thank  you  for  your  kindness  to 
Amy  and  auntie  as  sincerely  as  if  it  had  all  been 
rendered  to  me  alone." 

But  after  this  first  expression  of  natural  feeling, 
Haldane  was  almost  tempted  to  believe  that  she 
shunned  meeting  his  eyes,  avoided  speaking  to  him, 
and  even  tried  to  escape  from  his  society,  by  taking 
Mr.  Beaumont's  arm  and  strolling  off  to  some  other 
apartment,  when  he  was  calling  on  Mrs.  Arnot. 
And  yet  if  this  were  true,  he  was  also  made  to  feel 
that  it  resulted  from  no  lack  of  friendliness  or  esteem 
on  her  part. 

"  She  fears  that  my  old-time  passion  may  revive, 
and  she  would  teach  me  to  put  a  watch  at  the  en 
trance  of  its  sepulchre,"  he  at  length  concluded; 
"  she  little  thinks  that  my  love,  so  far  from  being 
dead,  is  a  chained  giant  .that  costs  me  hourly  vigi 
lance  to  hold  in  life-long  imprisonment." 

But  Laura  understood  him  much  better  than  he 
did  her.  Her  manner  was  the  result  of  a  straight 
forward  effort  to  be  honest.  Of  her  own  free  will, 
and  without  even  the  slightest  effort  on  the  part  of 
her  uncle  and  aunt  to  incline  her  toward  the  wealthy 
and  distinguished  Mr.  Beaumont,  she  had  accepted 
of  all  his  attentions,  and  accepted  of  the  man  him 
self.  In  the  world's  estimation  she  would  not  have 
the  slightest  ground  to  find  fault  with  him,  for,  from 
the  first,  both  in  conduct  and  manner,  he  had  been 
irreproachable. 


552     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

When  the  telegram  which  announced  Mr.  Poland's 
death  was  received,  he  tried  to  comfort  her  by  words 
that  were  so  peculiarly  elegant  and  sombre,  that,  in 
spite  of  Laura's  wishes  to  think  otherwise,  they 
struck  her  like  an  elegiac  address  that  had  been 
carefully  prearranged  and  studied  ;  and  when  the 
tidings  of  poor  little  Bertha's  death  came,  it  would 
occur  to  Laura  that  Mr.  Beaumont  had  thought  his 
first  little  address  so  perfect  that  he  could  do  no 
better  than  to  repeat  it,  as  one  might  use  an  appro 
priate  burial  service  on  all  occasions.  He  meant  to 
be  kind  and  considerate.  He  was  "  ready  to  do  any 
thing  in  his  power,"  as  he  often  said.  But  what  was 
in  his  power  ?  As  telegrams  and  letters  came,  tell 
ing  of  death,  of  desperate  illness,  and  uncertain  life, 
of  death  again,  of  manly  help,  of  woman-like  self- 
sacrifice  in  the  same  man,  her  heart  began  to  beat 
in  quick,  short,  passionate  throbs.  But  it  would 
seem  that  nothing  could  ever  disturb  the  even  rhythm 
of  Beaumont's  pulse.  He  tried  to  show  his  sympathy 
by  turning  his  mind  to  all  that  was  mournful  and 
sombre  in  art  and  literature.  One  day  he  brought 
to  her  from  New  York  what  he  declared  to  be  the 
finest  arrangement  of  dirge  music  for  the  piano  ex 
tant,  and  she  quite  surprised  him  by  declaring  with 
sudden  passion  that  she  could  and  would  not  play  a 
note  of  it. 

In  her  deep  sorrow  and  deeper  anxiety,  in  her 
strange  and  miserable  unrest,  which  had  its  hidden 
root  in  a  cause  not  yet  understood,  she  turned  to 
him  again  and  again  for  sympathy,  and  he  gave  her 
abundant  opportunity  to  seek  it,  for  Laura  was  the 


A   MAN    VERSUS  A    CONNOISSEUR.  553 

most  beautiful  object  he  had  ever  seen  ;  and  there 
fore,  to  feast  his  eye  and  gratify  his  ear,  he  spent 
much  of  his  time  with  her  ;  so  much,  indeed,  that  she 
often  grew  drearily  weary  of  him.  But  no  matter 
when  or  how  often  she  would  look  into  his  face  for 
quick,  heartfelt  appreciation,  she  saw  with  instinc 
tive  certainty  that,  more  than  lover,  more  than  friend, 
and  eventually,  more  than  husband,  he  was,  and 
ever  would  be,  a  connoisseur.  When  she  smiled  he 
was  admiring  her,  when  she  wept  he  was  also  admir 
ing  her.  Whatever  she  did  or  said  was  constantly 
being  looked  at  and  studied  from  an  esthetic  stand 
point  by  this  man,  whose  fastidious  taste  she  had 
thus  far  satisfied.  More  than  once  she  had  found 
herself  asking,  "  Suppose  I  should  lose  my  beauty, 
what  would  he  do?"  and  the  instinctive  answer  of 
her  heart  was  :  "  He  would  honorably  try  to  keep 
all  his  pledges,  but  would  look  the  other  way." 

Before  she  was  aware  of  it,  she  had  begun  to  com 
pare  her  affianced  with  Haldane,  and  she  found  that 
the  one  was  like  a  goblet  of  sweet,  rich  wine,  that  was 
already  nearly  exhausted  and  cloying  to  her  taste  ; 
the  other  was  like  a  mountain  spring,  whose  waters 
are  pure,  ever  new,  unfailing,  prodigally  abundant, 
inspiring  yet  slaking  thirst. 

But  she  soon  saw  whither  such  comparisons  were 
leading  her,  and  recognized  her  danger  and  her  duty. 
She  had  plighted  her  faith  to  another,  and  he  had 
given  her  no  good  reason  to  break  that  faith.  Laura 
had  a  conscience,  and  she  as  resolutely  set  to  work 
to  shut  out  Haldane  from  her  heart,  as  he,  poor 
man,  had  tried  to  exclude  her  image,  and  from  very 
24 


554     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

much  the  same  cause.  But  the  heart  is  a  wayward 
organ  and  is  often  at  sword's-point  with  both  will 
and  conscience,  and  frequently,  in  spite  of  all  that  she 
could  ,do»  it  would  array  Haldane  on  the  one  side  and 
Beaumont  on  the  other,  and  so  it  would  eventually 
come  to  be,  the  man  who  loved  her,  versus  the  con 
noisseur  who  admired  her,  but  whose  absorbing 
passion  for  himself  left  no  place  for  any  other  strong 
affection. 


EXIT  OF  LAURA  'S  FIRST  KNIGHT.  555 


CHAPTER    LIII. 
EXIT  OF  LAURA'S  FIRST  KNIGHT. 

HALDANE  was  given  but  little  time  for  quiet 
study,  for,  before  the  year  closed,  tidings 
came  from  his  mother,  who  was  then  in  Italy,  that 
she  was  ill  and  wished  to  see  him.  Poor  Mrs.  Hal- 
dane  had  at  last  begun  to  understand  her  son's 
character  better,  and  to  realize  that  he  would  re 
trieve  the  past.  She  also  reproached  herself  that 
she  had  not  been  more  sympathetic  and  helpful  to 
him,  and  was  not  a  little  jealous  that  he  should  have 
found  better  and  more  appreciative  friends  than 
herself.  And,  at  last,  when  she  was  taken  ill,  she 
longed  to  see  him,  and  he  lost  not  a  moment  in 
reaching  her  side. 

Her  illness,  however,  did  not  prove  very  serious, 
and  she  improved  rapidly  after  a  young  gentleman 
appeared  who  was  so  refined  in  his  manners,  so  con 
siderate  and  deferential  in  his  bearing  toward  her 
that  she  could  scarcely  believe  that  he  was  the  same 
with  the  wild,  wretched  youth  who  had  been  in  jail,' 
and,  what  was  almost  as  bad,  who  had  worked  in  a 
mill. 

Haldane  made  the  most  of  his  opportunities  in 
seeing  what  was  beautiful  in  nature  and  art  while  in 


556    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

the  old  world,  but  his  thoughts  turned  with  increas 
ing  frequency  to  his  own  land — not  only  because  it 
contained  the  friends  he  loved  so  well,  but  also  be 
cause  events  were  now  rapidly  culminating  for  that 
great  struggle  between  the  two  jarring  sections  that 
will  eventually  form  a  better  and  closer  union  on 
the  basis  of  a  mutual  respect,  and  a  better  and  truer 
knowledge  of  each  other. 

When  Mrs.  Haldane  saw  that  her  son  was  deter 
mined  to  take  part  in  the  conflict,  he  began  to  seem 
to  her  more  like  his  old  unreasonable  self.  She  fee 
bly  remonstrated  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  proved 
to  her  own  satisfaction  that  is  was  utter  folly  for  a 
young  man  who  had  the  enjoyment  of  such  large 
wealth  as  her  son  to  risk  the  loss  of  every  thing  in 
the  hardships  and  dangers  of  war.  He  was  as  kind 
and  considerate  as  possible,  but  she  saw  from  the 
old  and  well-remembered  expression  of  his  eyes  that 
he  would  carry  out  his  own  will  nevertheless,  and 
therefore  she  and  his  sisters  reluctantly  returned 
with  him. 

Having  safely  installed  them  in  their  old  home, 
and  proved  by  the  aid  of  Dr.  Marks  and  some  other 
leading  citizens  of  his  native  city  that  they  had  no 
further  occasion  to  seclude  themselves  from  the 
world,  he  returned  to  Hillaton  to  aid  in  organizing 
a  regiment  that  was  being  recruited  there,  and  in 
which  Mr.  Ivison  had  assured  him  of  a  commission. 
By  means  of  the  acquaintances  he  had  made  through 
his  old  mission  class,  he  was  able  to  secure  enlist 
ments  rapidly,  and  although  much  of  the  material 
that  he  brought  in  was  unpromising  in  its  first  ap- 


EXIT  OF  LAURA'S  FIRST  KNIGHT. 


557 


pearance,  he  seemed  to  have  the  faculty  of  trans 
forming  the  slouching  dilapidated  fellows  into  sol 
diers,  and  it  passed  into  general  remark  that  "  Hal- 
dane's  company  was  the  roughest  to  start  with,  and 
the  best  disciplined  and  most  soldierly  of  them  all 
when  ordered  to  the  seat  of  war." 

The  colonelcy  of  the  regiment  was  given  to  Mr. 
Beaumont,  not  only  on  account  of  his  position,  but 
also  because  of  his  large  liberality  in  fitting  it  out. 
He  took  a' vast  interest  in  the  esthetic  features  of 
its  equipment,  style  of  uniform,  and  like  matters, 
and  he  did  most  excellent  service  in  insisting  on 
neatness,  good  care  of  weapons,  and  a  soldier-like 
bearing  from  the  first. 

While  active  in  this  work  he  rose  again  in  Laura's 
esteem,  for  he  seemed  more  manly  and  energetic 
than  he  had  shown  himself  to  be  before ;  and  what 
was  still  more  in  his  favor,  he  had  less  time  for  the 
indulgence  of  his  taste  as  a  connoisseur  with  her 
fair  but  often  weary  face  as  the  object  of  contempla 
tion. 

She,  with  many  others,  visited  the  drill-ground 
almost  daily,  and  when  she  saw  the  tall  and  graceful 
form  of  Mr.  Beaumont  issuing  from  the  colonel's 
tent,  when  she  saw  him  mount  his  superb  white 
horse,  which  he  managed  with  perfect  skill,  when  she 
saw  the  sun  glinting  on  his  elegant  sword  and  gold 
epaulettes,  and  heard  his  sonorous  orders  to  the  men, 
she  almost  felt  that  all  Hillaton  was  right,  and  that 
she  had  reason  to  be  proud  of  him,  and  to  be  as 
happy  as  the  envious  belles  of  the  city  deemed  her 
to  be.  But  in  spite  of  herself,  her  eyes  would  wane 


558     KNIGHT  OF   THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

der  from  the  central  figure  to  plain  Captain  Hal 
dane,  who,  ignoring  the  admiring  throng,  was  giving 
his  whole  attention  to  his  duty. 

Before  she  was  aware  the  thought  began  to  creep 
into  her  mind,  however,  that  to  one  man  these 
scenes  were  military  pageants,  and  to  the  other  they 
meant  stern  and  uncompromising  war. 

This  impression  had  speedy  confirmation,  for  one 
evening  when  both  Mr.  Beaumont  and  Haldane  hap 
pened  to  be  present,  Mrs.  Arnot  remarked  in  effect 
that  her  heart  misgave  her  when  she  looked  into  the 
future,  and  that  the  prospect  of  a  bloody  war  be 
tween  people  of  one  race  and  faith  was  simply  hor 
rible. 

"  It  will  not  be  very  bloody,"  remarked  Mr.  Beau 
mont,  lightly.  "  After  things  have  gone  about  so  far 
the  politicians  on  both  sides  will  step  in  and  patch 
up  a  compromise.  Our  policy  at  the  North  is  to 
make  an  imposing  demonstration  ;  this  will  have  the 
effect  of  bringing  the  fire-eaters  to  their  senses,  and  if 
this  won't  answer  we  must  get  enough  men  together  to 
walk  right  over  the  South,  and  end  the  nonsense  at 
once.  I  have  traveled  through  the  South,  and  know 
that  it  can  be  done." 

"  Pardon  me,  Colonel,"  said  Haldane,  "  but  since 
we  are  not  on  the  drill-ground  I  have  a  right  to  dif 
fer  with  you.  I  anticipate  a  very  bloody,  and,  per 
haps,  a  long  war.  I  have  not  seen  so  much  of  the 
South,  but  I  have  seen  something  of  its  people.  The 
greatest  heroism  I  ever  saw  manifested  in  my  life 
was  by  a  young  Southern  girl,  and  if  such  are  their 
women  we  shall  find  the  men  foemen  abundantly 


EXIT  OF  LAURA'S  FIRST  KNIGHT.  559 

worthy  of  our  steel.  We  shall  indeed  have  to  lit 
erally  walk  over  them,  that  is,  such  of  us  as  are  left 
and  able  to  walk.  I  agree  with  Mrs.  Arnot,  and  I 
tremble  for  the  future  of  my  country," 

Mr.  Beaumont  forgot  himself  for  once  so  far  as  to 
say,  "  Oh,  if  you  find  such  cause  for  trembling — " 
but  Laura's  indignant  face  checked  further  utter 
ance. 

"  I  propose  to  do  my  duty,"  said  Haldane,  with  a 
quiet  smile,  though  a  quick  flush  showed  that  he  felt 
the  slur,  "  and  it  will  be  your  duty,  Colonel,  to  see 
that  I  do." 

"  You  have  taught  us  that  the  word  duty  means 
a  great  deal  to  you,  Egbert,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  and 
then  the  matter  dropped.  But  the  animus  of  each 
man  had  been  quite  clearly  revealed,  and  the  ques 
tion  would  rise  in  Laura's  mind,  "  Does  not  the  one 
belittle  the  occasion  because  little  himself?"  Al 
though  she  dreaded  the  coming  war  inexpressibly, 
she  took  Haldane's  view  of  it.  His  tribute  to  her 
cousin  Amy  also  touched  a  very  tender  chord. 

On  the  ground  of  having  secured  so  many  recruits 
Mr.  Ivison  urged  that  Haldane  should  have  the  rank 
of  major,  but  at  that  time  those  things  were  con 
trolled  largely  by  political  influence  and  favoritism, 
and  there  were  still  not  a  few  in  Hillaton  who  both 
thought  and  spoke  of  the  young  man's  past  record 
as  a  good  reason  why  he  should  not  have  any  rank 
at  all.  He  quietly  took  what  was  given  him  and 
asked  for  nothing  more. 

All  now  know  that  Mr.  Beaumont's  view  was  not 
correct,  and  as  the  conflict  thickened  and  deepened 


560    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

that  elegant  gentleman  became  more  and  more  dis 
gusted.  Not  that  he  lacked  personal  courage,  but,  as 
he  often  remarked,  it  was  the  "  horrid  style  of  living  " 
that  he  could  not  endure.  He  could  not  find  an 
esthetic  element  in  the  blinding  dust  or  unfathoma 
ble  mud  of  Virginia. 

As  was  usually  the  case,  there  was  in  the  regi 
ment  a  soldier  gifted  with  the  power  and  taste  for 
letter-writing,  and  he  kept  the  local  papers  quite 
well  posted  concerning  affairs  in  the  regiment.  One 
item  concerning  Beaumont  will  indicate  the  con 
dition  of  his  mind.  After  describing  the  "  awful" 
nature  of  the  roads  and  weather,  the  writer  added, 
"  The  Colonel  looks  as  if  in  a  chronic  state  of  dis 
gust." 

Suddenly  the  regiment  was  ordered  to  the  far 
South-west.  This  was  more  than  Beaumont  could 
endure,  for  in  his  view  life  in  that  region  would 
be  a  burden  under  any  circumstances.  He  coolly 
thought  the  matter  over,  and  concluded  that  he 
would  rather  go  home,  marry  Laura,  and  take  a 
tour  in  Europe,  and  promptly  executed  the  first 
part  of  his  plan  by  resigning  on  account  of  ill- 
health.  He  had  a  bad  cold,  it  is  true,  which,  had 
chiefly  gone  to  his  head  and  made  him  very  uncom 
fortable,  and  so  inflamed  his  nose  that  the  examining 
physician  misjudged  the  exemplary  gentleman,  recom 
mending  that  his  resignation  be  accepted,  more  from 
the  fear  that  his  habits  were  bad  than  from  any  other 
cause.  But  by  the  time  he  reached  Hillaton  his  nose 
was  itself  again,  and  he  as-  elegant  as  ever.  The 
political  major  had  long  since  disappeared,  and  so 


EXIT  OF  LAURA'S  FIRST  KNIGHT.  561 

Haldane  started  for  his  distant  field  of  duty  as  lieu 
tenant-colonel. 

The  regimental  letter-writer  chronicled  this  promo 
tion  in  the  Hillaton  Courier  with  evident  satisfaction. 

"  Lieut. -Col.  Haldane,"  he  wrote,  "is  respected  by  all  and  liked 
by  the  majority.  He  keeps  us  rigidly  to  our  duty,  but  is  kind  and 
considerate  nevertheless.  He  is  the  most  useful  officer  I  ever  heard 
of.  Now  he  is  chaplain  and  again  he  is  surgeon.  He  coaxes  the 
money  away  from  the  men  and  sends  it  home  to  their  families,  other 
wise  much  of  it  would  be  lost  in  gambling.  Many  a  mother  and 
wife  in  Hillaton  hears  from  the  absent  oftener  because  the  Colonel 
urges  the  boys  to  write,  and  writes  for  those  who  are  unable.  To  give 
you  a  sample  of  the  man  I  will  tell  you  what  I  saw  not  long  ago. 
The  roads  were  horrible  as  usual,  and  some  of  the  men  were  getting 
played  out  on  the  march.  The  first  thing  I  knew  a  sick  man  was  on 
the  Major's  horse  (he  was  Major  then),  and  he  was  trudging  along  in 
the  mud  with  the  rest  of  us,  and  carrying  the  muskets  of  three  other 
men  who  were  badly  used  up.*  We  want  the  people  of  Hillaton  to 
understand,  that  if  any  of  us  get  back  we  won't  hear  anything  more 
against  Haldane.  Nice,  pretty  fellows,  who  don't  like  to  get  their 
boots  muddy,  as  our  ex-Colonel  for  instance,  may  be  more  to  their 
taste,  but  they  ain't  to  ours." 

Laura  read  this  letter  with  cheeks  that  reddened 
with  shame  and  then  grew  very  pale. 

"  Auntie,  "  she  said,  showing  it  to  Mrs.  Arnot,  "  I 
cannot  marry  that  man.  I  would  rather  die  first." 

"  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  feel  so,"  replied  Mrs. 
Arnot  emphatically.  "  With  all  his  wealth  and  cul 
ture  I  neither  would  nor  could  marry  him,  and 
would  tell  him  so.  I  have  felt  sure  that  you  would 

*  I  cannot  refrain  here  from  paying  a  tribute  to  my  old  schoolmate 
and  friend.  Major  James  Cromwell,  of  the  I24th  New  York  Volun 
teers,  whom  I  have  seen  plodding  along  in  the  mud  in  a  November 
storm,  a  sick  soldier  riding  his  horse,  while  he  carried  the  accoutre 
ments  of  other  men  who  were  giving  out  from  exhaustion.  Major  Crom 
well  was  killed  while  leading  a  charge  at  the  battle  of  Gettysburg. 
24* 


562     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

come  to  this  conclusion,  but  I  wished  your  own 
heart  and  conscience  to  decide  the  matter." 

But  before  Laura  could  say  to  Mr.  Beaumont  that 
which  she  felt  she  must,  and  yet  which  she  dreaded, 
for  his  sake,  to  speak,  a  social  earthquake  took  place 
in  Hillaton. 

Mr.  Arnot  was  arrested  !  But  for  the  promptness 
of  his  friends  to  give  bail  for  his  appearance,  he 
would  have  been  taken  from  his  private  office  to 
prison  as  poor  Haldane  had  been  years  before. 

It  would  be  wearisome  to  tell  the  long  story  of  his 
financial  distress,  which  he  characteristically  kept 
concealed  from  his  wife.  Experiences  like  his  are 
only  too  common.  With  his  passion  for  business  he 
had  extended  it  to  the  utmost  limit  of  his  capital. 
Then  came  a  time  of  great  depression  and  contrac 
tion.  Prompted  by  a  will  that  had  never  been  thwart 
ed,  and  a  passion  for  routine  which  could  endure  no 
change,  he  made  Herculean  effort  to  keep  every  thing 
moving  on  with  mechanical  regularity.  His  strong 
business  foresight  detected  the  coming  change  for 
the  better  in  the  business  world,  and  with  him  it 
was  only  a  question  of  bridging  over  the  intervening 
gulf.  He  sank  his  own  property  in  his  effort  to  do 
this ;  then  the  property  of  his  wife  and  Laura,  which  he 
held  in  trust.  Then  came  the  great  temptation  of  his 
life.  He  was  joint  trustee  of  another  very  large  prop 
erty,  and  the  co-executor  was  in  Europe,  and  would 
be  absent  for  years.  In  order  to  use  some  of  the  funds 
of  this  property  it  was  necessary  to  have  the  signa 
ture  of  this  gentleman.  With  the  infatuation  of 
those  who  dally  with  this  kind  of  temptation,  Mr. 


EXIT  OF  LA  URA  '5  FIRST  KNIGHT.  563 

Arnot  felt  sure  that  he  could  soon  make  good  all 
that  he  should  use  in  his  present  emergency,  and, 
therefore,  forged  the  name  of  the  co-trustee.  The 
gentleman  returned  from  Europe  unexpectedly,  and 
the  crime  was  discovered  and  speedily  proved. 

It  was  now  that  Mrs.  Arnot  proved  what  a  noble 
and  womanly  nature  she  possessed.  Without  pal 
liating  his  fault,  she  ignored  the  whole  scoffing,  chat 
tering  world,  and  stood  by  her  husband  with  as  wifely 
devotion  as  if  his  crime  had  been  misfortune,  and 
he  himself  had  been  the  affectionate  considerate 
friend  that  she  had  believed  he  would  be,  when  as  a 
blushing  maiden  she  had  accepted  the  hand  that  had 
grown  so  hard,  and  cold,  and  heavy. 

Mr.  Beaumont  was  stunned  and  bewildered.  At 
first  he  scarcely  knew  what  to  do,  although  his  sa 
gacious  father  and  mother  told  him  very  plainly  to 
break  the  engagement  at  once.  But  the  trouble 
with  Mr.  Beaumont  upon  this  occasion  was  that 
he  was  a  man  of  honor,  and  for  once  he  almost  re 
gretted  the  fact.  But  since  he  was,  he  believed  that 
there  was  but  one  course  open  for  him.  Although 
Laura  was  now  penniless,  and  the  same  almost  as 
the  daughter  of  a  man  who  would  soon  be  in  State 
prison,  he  had  promised  to  marry  her.  She  must 
become  the  mistress  of  the  ancient  and  aristocratic 
Beaumont  mansion. 

He  braced  himself,  as  had  been  his  custom  when 
a  battle  was  in  prospect,  and  went  down  to  the  beau 
tiful  villa  which  would  be  Laura's  home  but  a  few 
days  longer. 

As  he  entered,  she  saw  that  he  was  about  to  perform 
the  one  heroic  act  of  his  life,  but  she  was  cruel  enough 


564     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

to  prevent  even  that  one,  and  so  reduced  his  whole  ca 
reer  to  one  consistently  elegant  and  polished  surface. 

He  had  taken  her  hand,  and  was  about  to  address 
her  in  the  most  appropriate  language,  and  with  all 
the  dignity  of  self-sacrifice,  when  she  interrupted 
him  by  saying  briefly  : 

"  Mr.  Beaumont,  please  listen  to  me  first.  Before 
the  most  unexpected  event  occurred  which  has  made 
so  great  a  change  in  my  fortunes,  and  I  may  add,  in 
so  many  of  my  friends,  I  had  decided  to  say  to  you  in 
all  sincerity  and  kindness  that  I  could  not  marry 
you;  I  could  not  give  you  that  love  which  a  wife 
ought  to  give  to  a  husband.  I  now  repeat  my  de 
cision  still  more  emphatically." 

•    Mr.  Beaumont  was  again  stunned  and  bewildered. 
A  woman  declining  to  marry  him! 

"  Can  nothing  change  your  decision  ?  "  he  faltered, 
fearing  that  something  might. 

"  Nothing,"  she  coldly  replied,  and  with  an  invol 
untary  expression  of  contempt  hovering  around  her 
flexible  mouth. 

"  But  what  will  you  do?"  he  asked,  prompted  by 
not  a  little  curiosity. 

"  Support  myself  by  honest  work,"  was  her  quiet, 
but  very  decisive  answer. 

Mr.  Beaumont  now  felt  that  there  was  nothing 
more  to  be  done  but  to  make  a  little  elegant  fare 
well  address,  and  depart,  and  he  would  make  it  in 
spite  of  all  that  she  could  do. 

The  next  thing  she  heard  of  him  was  that  he  had 
started  on  a  tour  of  Europe,  and,  no  doubt,  in  his 
pld  character  of  a  connoisseur,  whose  judgment  few 
dared  to  dispute. 


ANOTHER   KNIGHT  APPEARS.  565 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

ANOTHER  KNIGHT  APPEARS. 

THE  processes  of  law  were  at  length  complete, 
and  Mr.  Arnot  found  himself  in  a  prison  cell% 
with  the  prospect  that  years  must  elapse  before  he 
would  receive  a  freedom  that  now  was  dreaded 
almost  more  than  his  forced  seclusion.  After  his 
conviction  he  had  been  taken  from  Hillaton  to  a 
large  prison  of  the  State,  in  a  distant  city. 

"  I  shall  follow  you,  Thomas,  as  soon  as  I  can 
complete  such  arrangements  as  are  essential,"  Mrs. 
Arnot  had  said,  "  and  will  remain  as  near  to  you  as  I 
can.  Indeed,  it  will  be  easier  for  Laura  and  I  to 
commence  our  new  life  there  than  here." 

The  man  had  at  last  begun  to  realize  the  whole 
truth.  True  to  his  nature,  he  thought  of  himself 
first,  and  saw  that  his  crime,  like  a  great  black  hand, 
had  dragged  him  down  from  his  proud  eminence 
of  power,  and  universal  respect,  away  from  his  be 
loved  business,  and  had  shut  him  up  in  this  narrow, 
stony  sepulchre,  for  what  better  was  his  prison  cell 
than  a  tomb  to  a  man  with  his  tireless  mind  ?  The 
same  mind  which  like  a  giant  had  carried  its  huge 
burden  every  day,  was  still  his ;  but  now  there  was 
nothing  for  it  to  do.  And  yet  it  would  act,  for 


5 66     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

constant  mental  action  had  become  a  necessity  from 
a  lifetime  of  habit.  Heretofore  his  vast  business 
taxed  every  faculty  to  the  utmost.  He  had  to  keep 
his  eye  on  all  the  great  markets  of  the  world  ;  he  had 
to  follow  politicians,  diplomats,  and  monarchs  into 
their  secret  councils,  and  guess  at  their  policy  in  order 
to  shape  his  own  business  policy.  His  interests  were 
so  large  and  far  reaching  that  it  had  been  necessary 
for  him  to  take  a  glance  over  the  world  before  he 
could  properly  direct  his  affairs  from  his  private 
.office.  For  years  he  had  been  commanding  a  small 
army  of  men,  and  with  consummate  skill  and  con 
stant  thought  he  had  arrayed  the  industry  of  his 
army  against  the  labors  of  like  armies  under  the 
leadership  of  other  men  in  competition  with  him 
self.  His  mind  had  learned  to  flash  with  increasing 
speed  and  accuracy  to  one  and  another  of  all  these 
varied  interests.  But  now  the  great  fabric  of  busi 
ness  and  wealth,  which  he  had  built  by  a  lifetime  of 
labor,  had  vanished  like  a  dream,  and  nothing  re 
mained  but  the  mind  that  had  constructed  it. 

"Ah  !  "  he  groaned  again  and  again,  "  why  could 
not  mind  and  memory  perish  also  ?  " 

But  they  remained,  and  were  the  only  possessions 
left  out  of  his  great  wealth. 

Then  he  began  to  think  of  his  wife  and  Laura.  He 
had  beggared  them,  and  what  was  far  worse,  he  had 
darkened  their  lives  with  the  shadow  of  his  own  dis 
grace.  Wholly  innocent  as  they  were,  they  must 
suffer  untold  wretchedness  through  his  act.  In  his 
view  he  was  the  cause  of  the  broken  engagement 
between  his  niece  and  the  wealthy  Mr.  Beaumont, 


ANOTHER  KNIGHT  APPEARS.  567 

and  now  he  saw  that  there  was  nothing  before  the 
girl  but  a  dreary  effort  to  gain  a  livelihood  by  her 
own  labor,  and  this  effort  rendered  almost  hopeless 
by  the  reflected  shame  of  his  crime. 

His  wife  also  was  growing  old  and  feeble.  At  last 
he  realized  he  had  a  wife  such  as  is  given  to  but  few 
men — a  woman  who  was  great  enough  to  be  tender 
and  sympathetic  through  all  the  awful  weeks  that 
had  elapsed  since  the  discovery  of  his  crime — a 
woman  who  could  face  what  she  saw  before  her  and 
utter  no  words  of  repining  or  reproach. 

He  now  saw  how  cold  and  hard  and  unapprecia- 
tive  he  had  been  toward  her  in  the  days  of  his  pros 
perity,  and  he  cursed  himself  and  his  unutterable 
folly. 

Thus  his  great  powerful  mind  turned  in  vindictive 
rage  against  itself.  Memory  began  to  show  him 
with  mocking  finger  and  bitter  jibes  where  he  might 
have  acted  more  wisely  in  his  business,  more  wisely 
in  his  social  relations,  and  especially  more  wisely 
and  humanely,  to  say  the  least,  in  his  own  home. 
It  seemed  to  take  a  fiendish  delight  in  telling  him 
how  every  thing  might  have  been  different,  and  how 
he,  instead  of  brooding  in  a  prison  cell,  might  have 
been  the  most  honored,  useful,  wealthy,  and  happy 
man  in  Hillaton. 

Thus  he  was  tortured  until  physical  exhaustion 
brought  him  a  brief  respite  of  sleep.  But  the  next 
day  it  was  the  same  wretched  round  of  bitter  mem 
ories  and  vain  but  torturing  activity  of  mind.  Day 
after  day  passed  and  he  grew  haggard  under  his  in 
creasing  mental  distress.  His  mind  was  like  a  great 


568     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

driving  wheel,  upon  which  all  the  tremendous  motive 
power  is  turned  without  cessation,  but  for  which 
there  is  nothing  to  drive  save  the  man  himself,  and 
seemingly  it  would  drive  him  mad. 

At  last  he  said  to  himself,  "  I  cannot  endure  this. 
For  my  own  sake,  for  the  sake  of  my  wife  and  Laura, 
it  were  better  that  an  utter  blank  should  take  the 
place  of  Thomas  Arnot.  I  am,  and  ever  shall  be,  only 
a  burden  to  them.  I  am  coming  to  be  an  intoler 
able  burden  to  myself." 

The  thought  of  suicide,  once  entertained,  grew 
rapidly  in  favor,  and  at  last  it  became  only  a  ques 
tion  hew  he  could  carry  out  his  dark  purpose.  With 
this  definite  plan  before  him  he  grew  calmer.  At 
last  he  had  something  to  do  in  the  future,  and  ter 
rible  memory  must  suspend  for  a  time  its  scorpion 
lash  while  he  thought  how  best  to  carry  out  his  plan. 

The  suicide  about  to  take  the  risk  of  endless  suf 
fering  is  usually  desirous  that  the  intervening  mo 
ments  of  his  "  taking  off"  should  be  as  painless 
as  possible,  and  Mr.  Arnot  began  to  think  how  he 
could  make  his  exit  momentary.  But  his  more 
tranquil  mood,  the  result  of  having  some  definite 
action  before  him,  led  to  sleep,  and  the  long  night 
passed  in  unconsciousness,  the  weary  body  clogging 
the  wheels  of  conscious  thought. 

The  sun  was  shining  when  he  awoke  ;  but  with 
returning  consciousness  came  memory  and  pain,  and 
the  old  cowardly  desire  to  escape  all  the  conse 
quences  of  his  sin  by  death.  He  vowed  he  would 
not  live  to  see  another  day,  and  once  more  he  com 
menced  brooding  over  the  one  question,  how  he 


ANOTHER  KNIGHT  APPEARS.  569 

would  die.  As  he  took  up  this  question  where  he 
had  dropped  it  the  previous  night,  the  thought  oc 
curred  to  him  what  a  long  respite  he  had  had  from 
pain.  Then  like  a  flash  of  lightning  came  another 
thought : 

"  Suppose  by  my  self-destroying  act  I  pass  into 
a  condition  of  life  in  which  there  is  no  sleep,  and 
memory  can  torture  without  cessation,  without  re 
spite?  True,  I  have  tried  to  believe  there  is  no 
future  life,  but  am  I  sure  of  it  ?  Here  I  can  obtain 
a  little  rest.  For  hours  I  have  been  unconscious, 
through  the  weight  of  the  body  upon  my  spirit. 
How  can  I  be  sure  but  that  the  spirit  can  exist 
separately  and  suffer  just  the  same  ?  I  am  not  suf 
fering  now  through  my  body,  and  have  not  been 
through  all  these  terrible  days.  My  body  is  here  in 
this  cell,  inert  and  motionless,  painless,  while  in  my 
mind  I  am  enduring  the  torments  of  the  damned. 
The  respite  from  suffering  that  I  have  had  has  come 
through  the  weariness  of  my  body,  and  here  I  am 
planning  to  cast  down  the  one  barrier  that  perhaps 
saves  me  from  an  eternity  of  torturing  thought  and 
memory."  , 

He  was  appalled  at  the  bare  possibility  of  such  a 
future  ;  reason  told  him  that  such  a  future  was  prob 
able,  and  conscience  told  him  that  it  was  before  him 
in  veritable  truth.  He  felt  that  wherever  he  carried 
memory  and  his  present  character  he  would  be  most 
miserable,  whether  it  were  -in  Dante's  Inferno,  Mil 
ton's  Paradise,  or  the  heaven  or  hell  of  the  Bible. 

There  was  no  more  thought  of  suicide.  Indeed, 
he  shrank  from  death  with  inexpressible  dread. 


570    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Slowly  his  thoughts  turned  to  his  wife,  the  woman 
who  had  been  so  true  to  him,  the  one  human  being 
of  all  the  world  who  now  stood  by  him.  She  might 
help  him  in  his  desperate  strait.  She  seemed  to 
have  a  principle  within  her  soul  which  sustained  her, 
and  which  might  sustain  him.  At  any  rate,  he 
longed  to  see  her  once  more,  and  ask  her  forgiveness 
in  deep  contrition  for  his  base  and  life-long  failure  to 
11  love,  honor,  and  cherish  her,"  as  he  had  promised 
at  God's  altar  and  before  many  witnesses. 

The  devoted  wife  came  and  patiently  entered  on 
her  ministry  of  love  and  Christian  faith,  and  out  of 
the  chaos  of  the  fallen  man  of  iron  and  stone  there 
gradually  emerged  a  new  man,  who  first  became  in 
Christ's  expressive  words  "a  little  child  "  in  spirit 
ual  things,  that  he  might  grow  naturally  and  in  the 
symmetry  of  the  enduring  manhood  which  God  de 
signs  to  perfect  in  the  coming  ages. 

Mrs.  Arnot's  sturdy  integrity  led  her  to  give  up 
everything  to  her  husband's  creditors,  and  she  came 
to  the  city  of  her  new  abode  wherein  the  prison  was 
located  almost  penniless.  But  she  brought  letters 
from  Dr.  Barstow,  Mr.  Ivison,  and  other  Christian 
people  of  Hillaton.  These  were  presented  at  a 
church  of  the  denomination  to  which  she  be 
longed,  and  all  she  asked  was  some  employment 
by  which  she  and  Laura  could  support  themselves. 
These  letters  secured  confidence  at  once.  There 
was  no  mystery — nothing  concealed — and,  although 
so  shadowed  by  the  disgrace  of  another,  the  bearing 
of  the  ladies  inspired  respect  and  won  sympathy.  A 
gentleman  connected  with  the  church  gave  Laura  the 


ANOTHER  KNIGHT  APPEARS. 


571 


position  of  saleswoman  in  his  bookstore,  and  to  Mrs. 
Arnot's  little  suburban  cottage  of  only  three  rooms 
kind  and  interested  ladies  brought  sewing  and  fan 
cy-work.  Thus  they  were  provided  for,  as  God's 
people  ever  are  in  some  way, 

Mrs.  Arnot  had  written  a  long  letter  to  Haldane 
before  leaving  Hillaton,  giving  a  full  account  of 
their  troubles,  with  one  exception.  At  Laura's  re 
quest  she  had  not  mentioned  the  broken  engage 
ment  with  Beaumont. 

"  If  possible,  I  wish  to  see  him  myself  before  he 
knows,"  she  had  said.  "At  least,  before  any  corre 
spondence  takes  place  between  us,  I  wish  to  look 
into  his  eyes,  and  if  I  see  the  faintest  trace  of  shrink 
ing  from  me  there,  as  I  saw  it  in  Mr.  Beaumont's 
eyes,  I  will  never  marry  him,  truly  as  I  love  him." 

Mrs.  Arnot's  face  had  lighted  up  with  its  old- 
time  expression,  as  she  said  : 

"  Laura,  don't  you  know  Egbert  Haldane  better 
than  that  ?" 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  she  had  replied  with  a  troubled 
brow  ;  "  the  manner  of  nearly  every  one  has  changed 
so  greatly  that  I  must  see  him  first." 

Haldane  did  not  receive  Mrs.  Arnot's  first  letter. 
He  was  at  sea  with  his  regiment,  on  his  way  to  the 
far  Southwest,  when  the  events  in  which  he  would 
have  been  so  deeply  interested  began  to  occur. 
After  reaching  his  new  scene  of  duty,  there  were 
constant  alternations  of  march  and  battle.  In  the 
terrible  campaign  that  followed,  the  men  of  the 
army  he  was  acting  with  were  decimated,  and  of 
ficers  dropped  out  fast.  In  consequence,  Haldane, 


572     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

who  received  but  two  slight  wounds,  that  did  not 
disable  him,  was  promoted  rapidly.  The  colonel  of 
the  regiment  was  killed  soon  after  their  arrival,  and 
from  the  command  of  the  regiment  he  rose,  before 
the  campaign  was  over,  to  command  a  brigade,  and 
then  a  division ;  and  he  performed  his  duties  so  faith 
fully  and  ably  that  he  was  confirmed  in  this  position. 

Mrs.  Arnot's  first  letter  had  followed  him  around 
for  a  time,  and  then  was  lost,  like  so  many  others 
in  that  time  of  dire  confusion.  Her  second  letter 
after  long  delay  reached  him,  but  it  was  very  brief 
and  hurried,  and  referred  to  troubles  that  he  did  not 
understand.  From  members  of  his  old  regiment, 
however,  rumors  reached  him  of  some  disaster  to 
Mr.  Arnot,  and  wrong-doing  on  his  part,  which  had 
led  to  imprisonment. 

Haldane  was  greatly  shocked  at  the  bare  possi 
bility  of  such  events,  and  wrote  a  most  sympathetic 
letter  to  Mrs.  Arnot,  which  never  reached  her.  She 
had  received  some  of  his  previous  letters,  but  not 
this  one. 

By  the  time  the  campaign  was  over  one  of  Hal- 
dane's  wounds  began  to  trouble  him  very  much,  and 
his  health  seemed  generally  broken  down  from  ex 
posure  and  over-exertion.  As  a  leave  of  absence 
was  offered  him,  he  availed  himself  of  it  and  took 
passage  to  New  York. 

Three  or  four  letters  from  his  mother  had  reached 
him,  but  that  lady's  causeless  jealousy  of  Mrs.  Arnot 
had  grown  to  such  proportions  that  she  never  men 
tioned  her  name. 

The   long  days   of  the   homeward   voyage   were 


ANOTHER  KNIGHT  APPEARS. 


573 


passed  by  Haldane  in  vain  conjecture.  Of  one 
thing  he  felt  quite  sure,  and  that  was  that  Laura 
was  by  this  time,  or  soon  would  be,  Mrs.  Beaumont; 
and  now  that  the  excitement  of  military  service  was 
over,  the  thought  rested  on  him  with  a  weight  that 
was  almost  crushing. 

One  evening  Mr.  Growther  was  dozing  as  usual 
between  his  cat  and  dog,  when  some  one  lifted  the 
latch  and  walked  in  without  the  ceremony  of  knock 
ing. 

"  Look  here,  stranger,  where's  yer  manners  ?  " 
snarled  the  old  gentleman.  Then  catching  a  glimpse 
of  the  well-remembered  face,  though  now  obscured 
by  a  tremendous  beard,  he  started  up,  exclaiming, 

"  Lord  a'  massy !  'tain't  you,  is  it?  And  you  com 
pared  yourself  with  that  little,  peaked-faced  chap 
that's  around  just  the  same — you  with  shoulders  as 
broad  as  them  are,  and  two  stars  on  'em  too  ! " 

The  old  man  nearly  went  beside  himself  with  joy. 
He  gave  the  cat  and  dog  each  a  vigorous  kick,  and 
told  them  to  "  wake  up  and  see  if  they  could  be 
lieve  their  eyes." 

It  was  some  time  before  Haldane  could  get  him 
quieted  down  so  as  to  answer  all  the  questions  that 
he  was  longing  to  put ;  but  at  last  he  drew  out  the 
story  in  full  of  Mr.  Arnot's  forgery  and  its  conse 
quences. 

"  Has  Mr.  Beaumont  married  Miss  Romeyn  ?  "  at 
last  he  faltered. 

"  No  ;  I  reckon  not,"  said  Mr.  Growther  dryly. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Haldane  sharply. 

"Well,  all  I  know  is  that  he  didn't  marry  her, 


574     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

and  she  ain't  the  kind  of  a  girl  to  marry  him, 
whether  he  would  or  no,  and  so  they  ain't  married." 

"The  infernal  scoundrel!"  thundered  Haldane, 
springing  to  his  feet.  "  The — " 

"Hold  on!"  cried  Mr.  Growther.  "  Oh,  Lord  a' 
massy !  I  half  believe  he's  got  to  swearin'  down  in 
the  war.  If  he's  backslid  agin,  nothin'  but  my  lit 
tle,  peaked-faced  chap  will  ever  bring  him  around  a 
nuther  time." 

Haldane  was  stalking  up  and  down  the  room  in 
strong  excitement  and  quite  oblivious  of  Mr.  Grow- 
ther's  perplexity. 

"  The  unutterable  fool !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  to  part 
from  such  a  woman  as  Laura  Romeyn  for  any  cause 
save  death." 

"Well,  hang  it  all!  if  he's  a  fool  that's  his  busi 
ness.  What  on  'arth  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  I 
ain't  used  to  havin'  bomb-shells  go  off  right  under 
my  nose  as  you  be,  and  the  way  you  are  explodin' 
round  kinder  takes  away  my  breath." 

"  Forgive  me,  my  old  friend ;  but  I  never  had  a 
shot  strike  quite  as  close  as  this.  Poor  girl !  poor 
girl !  What  a  prospect  she  had  a  few  months  since. 
True  enough,  Beaumont  was  never  a  man  to  my 
taste ;  but  a  woman  sees  no  faults  in  the  man  she 
laves  ;  and  he  could  have  given  her  every  thing  that 
her  cultured  taste  could  wish  for.  Poor  girl,  she 
must  be  broken-hearted  with  all  this  trouble  and 
disappointment." 

"  If  I  was  you,  I'd  go  and  see  if  she  was,"  said 
Mr.  Growther,  with  a  shrewd  twinkle  in  his  eyes. 
"  I've  heerd  tell  of  hearts  bein'  mended  in  my  day." 


ANOTHER  KNIGHT  APPEARS.  575 

Haldane  looked  at  him  a  moment,  and,  as  he  caught 
his  old  friend's  meaning,  he  brought  his  hand  down 
on  the  table  with  a  force  that  made  every  thing  in 
the  old  kitchen  ring  again. 

"  O  Lord  a'  massy  !  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Growther, 
hopping  half  out  of  his  chair. 

"  Mr.  Growther,"  said  Haldane,  starting  up,  "  I 
came  to  have  a  very  profound  respect  for  your 
sagacity  and  wisdom  years  ago,  but  to-night  you 
have  surpassed  Solomon  himself.  I  shall  take  your 
most  excellent  advice  at  once  and  go  and  see." 

"  Not  to-night—" 

"  Yes,  I  can  yet  catch  the  owl  train  to-night. 
Good-by  for  a  short  time." 

"  No  wonder  he  took  the  rebs'  works,  if  he  went 
for  'em  like  that,"  chuckled  Mr.  Growther,  as  he 
composed  himself  after  the  excitement  of  the  unex 
pected  visit.  "  Now  I  know  what  made  him  look 
so  long  as  if  something  was  a-gnawin'  at  his  heart ; 
so  I'm  a-thinkin'  there'll  be  two  hearts  mended." 

Haldane  reached  the  city  in  which  Mrs.  Arnot 
resided  early  in  the  morning,  and  as  he  had  no  clue 
to  her  residence,  he  felt  that  his  best  chance  of  hear 
ing  of  her  would  be  at  the  prison  itself,  for  he  knew 
well  that  she  would  seek  either  to  see  or  learn  of 
her  husband's  welfare  almost  daily.  In  answer  to 
his  inquiries,  he  was  told  that  she  would  be  sure  to 
come  to  the  prison  at  such  an  hour  in  the  evening, 
since  that  was  her  custom. 

He  must  get  through  the  day  the  best  he  could, 
and  so  strolled  off  to  the  business  part  of  the  city, 
where  was  located  the  leading  hotel,  and  was  fol- 


576     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

lowed  by  curious  eyes  and  surmises.  Major  generals 
were  not  in  the  habit  of  inquiring  at  the  prison  after 
convicts'  wives. 

As  he  passed  a  bookstore,  it  occurred  to  him  that 
an  exciting  story  would  help  kill  time,  and  he  saun 
tered  in  and  commenced  looking  over  the  latest  publi 
cations  that  were  seductively  arranged  near  the  door. 

"  I'll  go  to  breakfast  now,  Miss,"  said  the  junior 
clerk  who  swept  the  store. 

"Thank  you.  Oh,  go  quickly,"  murmured  Laura 
Romeyn  to  herself,  as  with  breathless  interest  she 
watched  the  unconscious  officer,  waiting  till  he 
should  look  up  and  recognize  her  standing  behind  a 
counter.  She  was  destined  to  have  her  wish  in 
very  truth,  for  when  he  saw  her  he  would  be  so 
surely  off  his  guard  from  surprise  that  she  could  see 
into  the  very  depths  of  his  heart. 

Would  he  never  look  up?  She  put  her  hand  to 
her  side,  for  anticipation  was  so  intense  as  to  become 
a  pain.  She  almost  panted  from  excitement.  This 
was  the  supreme  moment  of  her  life,  but  the  very 
fact  of  his  coming  to  this  city  promised  well  for  the 
hope  which  fed  her  life. 

"  Ah,  he  is  reading.  The  thought  of  some 
stranger  holds  him,  while  my  intense  thoughts  and 
feelings  no  more  affect  him  than  if  I  were  a  thou 
sand  miles  away.  How  strong  and  manly  he  looks ! 
How  well  that  uniform  becomes  him,  though  evi 
dently  worn  and  battle-stained !  Ah !  two  stars 
upon  his  shoulder!  Can  it  be  that  he  has  won  such 
high  rank?  What  will  he  think  of  poor  me,  selling 
books  for  bread?  Egbert  Haldane,  beware!  If  you 


ANOTHER  KNIGHT  APPEARS.  577 

shrink  from  me  now,  even  in  the  expression  of  your 
eye,  I  stand  aloof  from  you  forever." 

The  man  thus  standing  on  the  brink  of  fate,  read 
leisurely  on,  smiling  at  some  quaint  fancy  of  the 
author,  who  had  gained  his  attention  for  a  moment. 

*'  Heigh  ho  !  "  he  said  at  last,  "  this  hooking  diver 
sion  from  a  book  unbought  is  scarcely  honest,  so  I 
will— " 

The  book  dropped  from  his  hands,  and  he  passed 
his  hands  across  his  eyes  as  if  to  brush  away  a  blur. 
Then  his  face  lighted  up  with  all  the  noble  and  sym 
pathetic  feeling  that  Laura  had  ever  wished  or 
hoped  to  see,  and  he  sprang  impetuously  toward  her. 

"  Miss  Romeyn,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Oh,  this  is 
better  than  I  hoped." 

"  Did  you  hope  to  find  me  earning  my  bread  in 
this  humble  way?"  she  faltered,  deliciously  con 
scious  that  he  was  almost  crushing  her  hand  in  a 
grasp  that  was  all  too  friendly. 

11 1  was  hoping  to  find  you — and  Mrs.  Arnot,"  he 
added  with  a  sudden  deepening  of  color  ;  "  I  thought 
a  long  day  must  elapse  before  I  could  learn  of  your 
residence." 

"  Do  you  know  all  ?  "  she  asked,  very  gravely. 

"Yes,  Miss  Romeyn,"  he  replied' with  moistening 
eyes,  "  I  know  all.  Perhaps  my  past  experience  en 
ables  me  to  sympathize  with  you  more  than  others 
can;  but  be  that  as  it  may,  I  do  give  you  the 
whole  sympathy  of  my  heart ;  and  for  this  brave 
effort  to  win  your  own  bread  I  respect  and  honor 
you  more,  if  possible,  than  I  did  when  you  were  in 
your  beautiful  home  at  Hillaton." 
25 


578     KNIGHT  OF   THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Laura's  tears  were  now  falling  fast,  but  she  was 
smiling  nevertheless,  and  she  said,  hesitatingly. 

"  I  do  not  consider  myself  such  a  deplorable  ob 
ject  of  sympathy;  I  have  good  health,  a  kind  em 
ployer,  enough  to  live  upon,  and  a  tolerably  clear 
conscience.  Of  course  I  do  feel  deeply  for  auntie  and 
uncle,  and  yet  I  think  auntie  is  happier  than  she 
has  been  for  many  years.  If  all  had  remained 
as  it  was  at  Hillaton,  the  ice  around  uncle's  heart 
would  have  grown  harder  and  thicker  to  the  end ; 
now  it  is  melting  away,  and  auntie's  thoughts  reach 
so  far  beyond  time  and  earth,  that  she  is  forgetting 
the  painful  present  in  thoughts  of  the  future." 

"  I  have  often  asked  myself,"  exclaimed  Haldane, 
"  could  God  have  made  a  nobler  woman  ?  Ah ! 
Miss  Laura,  you  do  not  know  how  much  I  owe  to 
her." 

"  You  have  taught  us  that  God  can  make  noble 
men  also." 

"  I  have  merely  done  my  duty,"  he  said,  with  a 
careless  gesture.  "  When  can  I  see  Mrs.  Arnot?  " 

"  I  can't  go  home  till  noon,  but  I  think  I  can  di 
rect  you  to  the  house." 

"  Can  I  not  stay  and  help  you  sell  books  ?  Then 
I  can  go  home  with  you." 

"  A  major-general  behind  the  counter  selling 
books  would  make  a  sensation  in  town,  truly." 

"  If  the  people  were  of  my  way  of  thinking,  Miss 
Laura  Romeyn  selling  books  would  make  a  far 
greater  sensation." 

"  Very  few  are  of  your  way  of  thinking,  Mr.  Hal 
dane." 


ANOTHER  KNIGHT  APPEARS. 


579 


"I  am  heartily  glad  of  it,"  he  ejaculated. 
"Indeed!'? 

11  Pardon  me,  Miss  Romeyn,"  he  said  with  a  deep 
flush,  "you  do  not  understand  what  I  mean."  Then 
he  burst  out  impetuously,  "  Miss  Laura,  I  cannot 
school  myself  into  patience.  I  have  been  in- despair 
so  many  years  that  now  that  I  dare  to  imagine  that 
there  is  a  bare  chance  for  merl  cannot  wait  deco 
rously  for  some  fitting  occasion.  But  if  you  can 
give  me  even  the  faintest  hope  I  will  be  patience 
and  devotion  itself." 

"Hope- of  what?"  said  Laura,  faintly  turning 
away  her  face. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Laura,  I  ask  too  much."  he  answered 
sadly. 

"  You  have  not  asked  anything  very  definitely, 
Mr.  Haldane,"  she  faltered. 

"  I  ask  for  the  privilege  of  trying  to  win  you  as 
my  wife." 

"  Ah,  Egbert,"  she  cried,  joyously,  "you  have 
stood  the  test ;  for  if  you  had  shrunk,  even  in  your 
thoughts,  from  poor,  penniless  Laura  Romeyn,  with 
her  uncle  in  yonder  prison,  you  might  have  tried  in 
vain  to  win  me." 

"  God  knows  I  did  not  shrink,"  he  said  eagerly, 
and  reaching  out  his  hand  across  the  counter. 

"  I  know  it  too,"  she  said  shyly. 

"  Laura,  all  that  I  am,  or  ever  can  be,  goes  with 
that  hand." 

She  put  her  hand  in  his,  and  looking  into  his  face 
with  an  expression  which  he  had  never  seen  before, 
she  said  : 


580    KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Egbert,  I  have  loved  you  ever  since  you  went,  as 
a  true  knight,  to  the  aid  of  cousin  Amy." 

And  thus  they  plighted  their  faith  to  each  other 
across  the  counter,  and  then  he  came  around  on  her 
side. 

We  shall  not  attempt  to  portray  the  meeting 
between  Mrs.  Arnot  and  one  whom  she  had  learn 
ed  to  look  upon  as  a  son,  and  who  loved  her  with 
an  affection  that  had  its  basis  in  the  deepest  grati 
tude. 

Our  story  is  substantially  ended.  It  only  remains 
to  be  said  that  Haldane,  by  every  means  in  his 
power,  showed  gentle  and  forbearing  consideration 
for  his  mother's  feelings,  and  thus  she  was  eventually 
led  to  be  reconciled  to  his  choice,  if  not  to  approve 
of  it. 

"  After  all  it  is  just  like  Egbert,"  she  said  to  her 
daughters,  "  and  we  will  have  to  make  the  best  of  it." 

Haldane's  leave  of  absence  passed  all  too  quickly, 
and  in  parting  he  said  to  Laura  : 

"You  think  I  have  faced  some  rather  difficult 
duties  before,  but  there  was  never  one  that  could 
compare  with  leaving  you  for  the  uncertainties  of 
a  soldier's  life." 

But  he  went  nevertheless,  and  remained  till  the 
end  of  the  war. 

Not  long  after  going  to  the  front  he  was  taken 
prisoner  in  a  disastrous  battle,  but  he  found  means 
of  informing  his  old  friend  Dr.  Orton  of  the  fact. 
Although  the  doctor  was  a  rebel  to  the  back-bone, 
he  swore  he  would  "  break  up  the  Confederacy  "  if 
Haldane  was  not  released,  and  through  his  influ- 


ANOTHER  KNIGHT  APPEALS.  .-  581 

ence  the  young  man  soon  found  himself  at  his  friend's 
hospitable  home,  where  he  found  Amy  installed  as 
housekeeper.  She  was  now  Mrs.  Orton,  for  her  lover 
returned  as  soon  as  it  was  safe  for  him  to  do  so  after 
the  end  of  the  epidemic.  He  was  now  away  in  the 
army,  and  thus  Haldane  did  not  meet  him  at  that 
time  ;  but  later  in  the  conflict  Colonel  Orton  in  turn 
became  a  prisoner  of  war,  and  Haldane  was  able  to 
return  the  kindness  which  he  received  on  this  occa 
sion.  Mrs.  Poland  resided  with  Amy,  and  they  both 
were  most  happy  to  learn  that  they  would  eventu 
ally  have  a  relative  as  well  as  friend  in  their  captive, 
for  never  was  a  prisoner  of  war  made  more  of  than 
Haldane  up  to  the  time  of  his  exchange. 

Years  have  passed.  The  agony  of  the  war  has 
long  been  over.  Not  only  peace  but  prosperity  is 
once  more  prevailing  throughout  the  land. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arnot  reside  in  their  old  home,  but 
Mrs.  Egbert  Haldane  is  its  mistress.  Much  effort 
was  made  to  induce  Mr.  Growther  to  take  up  his 
abode  there  also,  but  he  would  not  leave  the  quaint 
old  kitchen,  where  he  said  "  the  little  peaked-faced 
chap  was  sittin'  beside  him  all  the  time." 

At  last  he  failed  and  was  about  to  die.  Looking 
up  into  Mrs.  Arnot's  face,  he  said  : 

"  I  don't  think  a  bit  better  of  myself.  I'm  twisted 
all  out  o'  shape.  But  the  little  chap  has  taught  me 
how  the  Good  Father  will  receive  me," 

The  wealthiest  people  of  Hillaton  are  glad  to  ob 
tain  the  services  of  Dr.  Haldane,  and  to  pay  for 
them ;  they  are  glad  to  welcome  him  to  their  homes 
when  his  busy  life  permits  him  to  come ;  but  the 


582     KNIGHT  OF   THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

proudest  citizen  must  wait  when  Christ,  in  the  per 
son  of  the  poorest  and  lowliest,  sends  word  to  this 
knightly  man,  "  I  am  sick  or  in  prison  ;  "  "I  am 
naked  or  hungry/' 


THE  END. 


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LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 

Book  Slip-50m-5,'70(N6725s8) 458— A-31/5 


N?  814932 


PS2727 
Roe,    E.P.  K5 

A  knight  of  the  nine 
teenth  century. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


